The Unsaveable Girl
by AfterDaybreak
Summary: "You don't get it…I'm not good." Kasey is a criminal. But she'd like nothing more than to live a normal life. When Spider-Man webs his way into her world, there's really no chance of being normal. But is that really so bad? Extended summary inside. Spider-Man: Homecoming MCU. (Peter X OC)
1. Extended Summary

❝ _With great power comes great responsibility._ ❞

Those are the words that Peter Parker has lived by since the loss of his uncle. The words that fuel him to be Spider-Man everyday.

❝ _I'm not good. I'm a criminal. Criminal's can't be saved—I'm a lost cause._ ❞

Those are the words Kasandra Florez has lived by her whole life. Living with an abusive, drunken father and stealing to survive, it's all she's ever really known. ' _Steal enough money to pay this month's rent; steal enough food to get us through today; try to keep a job for more than a week; don't make papá angry.'_

With all that circulating through Kasey's mind at all hours of the day, there was never really any time or space for her to think of much else, including trying to keep up with homework. That is, only until a certain web-slinger swung his way into her life.

And that's when everything changed.

Because somehow, the strange hero made her want to _do_ something about her life—to _fix_ it. Somehow, Spider-Man made her want to be _better._

And that scared her.

Because with Spider-Man as a friend, nothing could remain normal for very long. _That_ was something Kasey learned very quickly.

* * *

 **CAST**

Ivana Baquero as **Kasandra "Kasey" Florez**

Tom Holland as **Peter Parker / Spider-Man**

Marisa Tomei as **(Aunt) May Parker**

Jacob Batalon as **Edward "** **Ned" Leeds**

Zendaya as **Michelle Jones**

Laura Harrier as **Elizabeth "Liz" Allan**

Tony Revolori as **Eugene "Flash" Thompson**

Michael Keaton as **Adrian Toomes / Vulture**

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE / DISCLAIMER**

Rated T for:

-Swear words

-Some scenes of graphic violence

-Some sexual activity (kissing scenes)

-A few brief scenes of abuse (mostly just verbal)

Everything in this story is fictional.

This story is based off the 2017 Spider-Man: Homecoming MCU movie, but **I do not own** _Spider-Man_ **or** _Spider-Man: Homecoming_ **'s characters/plot!**

Kasey is my character though! I know she's awesome but please don't steal her!

Also, if anyone notices any spelling or grammar mistakes I would appreciate it _so much_ if you'd mention it in the comments so I can fix it :)

Aaaaaand if anyone would like to make a prettier cover, I would appreciate it very much!

This story is also available on my Quotev and Wattpad account if you'd like to view it there as well :)

Thanks so much for checking out my story! I hope you all enjoy it!


	2. Chapter 1

Getting caught up in the rain was the least of my worries. In fact, at this point in my life it was probably the highlight of my day—possibly my week. Honestly, I should've been worried about something; homework, paying overdue rent, finding a job or even just getting up for school on time for once... Or eating something outside of the processed food group. That would be nice. But right then, I had to remind myself to keep as dry as possible. I'd just washed my clothes last week and I didn't need to give papá any reason to get mad at me, especially since he rarely washed his clothing once a month. So I kept under the awnings of storefronts along the sidewalk, and sometimes snuck under another person's large umbrella. Though I ached to stand in the rain and wet my hair until it was plastered against my face and neck in cold, black ringlets and the freshness of the air purified my lungs of NYC's heavy atmosphere. I wanted the droplets to slide down my face, my hands, everything; and wash it all clean. I wanted to close my eyes and tip my head back in the rain and forget—just for one moment—all the filth and inconveniences and sadness I'd endured in this life thus far. But I pushed it down, down, down, and kept walking, because I had a mission.

I tugged my hood on over my head and popped earbuds into my ears, even though I played no music. Up ahead, I turned into a convenience store, all the while playing the role of an incognito-nobody. The cashier greeted me and I looked up to flash him a brief smile, but kept my face turned away from any security cameras. I strolled through the aisles, glancing over the shelves while discreetly tossing items into my purse while the cashier was preoccupied with helping a different customer. When my bag was significantly heavy, I made my way over to the beverages where I extracted a water bottle from the refrigerator. On my way back to the cash register, I spotted a packet of dried fruits. My eyes lit up as I snatched it off the hangar. It was pretty much the closest thing I ever got to real food.

After the lady ahead of me walked off, I tugged an earbud out of an ear and placed the water and dehydrated snacks on the counter. The cashier scanned them and announced my total. I grimaced as I pulled the change from my pocket. The snack was more than I expected.

"Thank you, have a nice day young lady," he said.

I ducked my head with a murmured, "you too" and hurried to the door, but not before the strap on my purse decided to snap and spew my stolen goods all over the convenience store floor.

"Do you need–?" the man looked from the store items to me with shock and horror. I didn't comprehend a single word he yelled my way as I quickly snatched everything up and bolted out the door just ahead of the cashier's desperate hands. I didn't stop running or look back as I clutched my broken purse to me and raced down an alleyway. I blew out a breath and slowed my pace once I turned another corner. That was WAY too close. In the dwindling spray of rain that remained, I set to work on fixing my purse strap. Damn thing never stayed fixed for long.

"Hey!" A voice yet to develop it's masculinity echoed off the walls around me and I turned around, tensed for anything, but nobody was in sight. A sound like something sticky being released from a pressurized state and the next thing I knew, my purse was out of my hands and in the red-gloved palms of Spider-Man. He leaned against the brick wall in front of me, my black purse with it's broken strap and stolen goods now in his possession. This was not good.

"You know you just stole all these things? And stealing's kinda against the law," he said as if I were no more than a toddler. I crossed my arms defiantly.

"Give me my stuff back," I ordered.

"Technically, this isn't yours, so I dunno..."

"Well can I at _least_ have my purse back?" I demanded, "because _technically_ it's mine." I was determined to not lose everything today. His eye pieces narrowed slightly with a brief, mechanical whir.

"You sure you didn't steal this too?" He confimred, peering at the bag, and seeming to just notice that it was broken.

"Oh man, how'd you do that?" He flapped the strap in the air in front of him, eyepieces wide again. "Somehow, this doesn't seem very convenient to me." I continued to glare in unamusement at this masked boy in spandex.

"Well it's all I've got, so I'd like it back please."

"Sheesh! Alright, lady, lemme see what I can do..." He set the heavy bag down on a dumpster beside him and set to work on it. I wanted to protest but in all honesty, the kid could probably fix it better than I ever could. The only thing my hands seemed good for these days was stealing; definitely not fixing.

"How's that?" Spider-Man lifted it off the dumpster and held it up for me to see. I had no idea how he did it, but somehow my strap seemed to be reattached without any issues or evidence of breakage.

"Thanks," I said, taking a step forward out of genuine gratuity. He leaned down and craned forward to get a better look at me, his eyepieces narrowed as if they were actual eyes. I shied away warily.

"Hey, do I–?" A sudden gust of wind ripped my hood off, causing Spider-Man to pause in surprise with dilated eye pieces. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I lunged forward, snatched my purse from him and darted from the alley.

"Kasey, wait!"

 _He knows my name. HOW DOES HE KNOW MY NAME!?_ I pulled my hood back up and used my short height to my advantage; hiding among other people and under their umbrellas, despite the nonexistent downpour. To say I was kinda panicking would be a total understatement, and I had to use some ridiculous willpower to keep myself from looking around for Spider-Man.

 _How the hell does he know my name? He totally recognized me, but how!? I literally don't talk to anyone... like ever._ I theorized over different possibilities as I speed walked home, not daring to stop for anything save for at crosswalks.

My first theory was that he was some guy I'd momentarily met at some point in my life and immediately forgotten about, because that tended to happen to me a lot. My second one was that he was an old coworker or classmate who knew me but I never knew. And my third was that Spider-Man was a huge stalker, and in which case I either had to barricade myself inside the apartment or heavily arm myself at all times. I prayed it was one of the first two.

 **AN: Sooo I'm gonna be honest, I'm basically just winging this story (heh, I got so excited and just started writing without a thought). I haven't developed much of a plot so far so it may take a few chapters before it starts to sound purposeful, but we'll get there!**

 **Anyways, lemme know what you guys think of the first chapter! :)**


	3. Chapter 2

Prior to entering the apartment building, I dug through everything in my bag until I came across my keys. Then, as silently as I could manage so I wouldn't alert the lessor, I snuck inside the apartment building and quickly unlocked the apartment door, only to lock it again once inside. I flicked the lights on with a breath of relief when I realized papá was still out with friends getting hammered or something.

I plopped down at the kitchen table and ripped open my dried fruit package hungrily, then I picked through my purse to find something else to eat. Finished with dinner, I began to sort everything I stole into the mostly empty kitchen cupboards. Seeing we were running low on clean water again, I filled a pot with tap water and set it to boil on the stove. Then I took out my schoolbooks and a pencil and began to catch up on ultra-late homework. Though I found my thoughts—as well as my pencil—drifting toward spiders and a certain masked heroine more so than my overdue trigonometry homework. And soon enough, the margins of my page were filled with small sketches.

•••

I wanted to ignore the sounds of my drunk father making his way up the steps in the stairwell outside, but couldn't. I prayed to God that he wouldn't wake up anyone else—especially the lessor—and was beyond relieved when he stumbled into the apartment door without ensuing a yelling match with David. I listened as his almost useless hands fumbled with the door knob for too long, then as he just about fell to the floor when he swung the door open. I pressed my eyes closed, trying to imagine myself anywhere else but here. But not even my dreams could provide an asylum.

•••

My eyes fluttered open and I suppressed a tired groan. I _really_ didn't want to go to school, especially after yesterday. But it was either deal with school or a hungover papá, so I quietly rolled out of my hammock and pulled on new clothes. The curtains remained drawn and the lights off so I had to rely almost entirely on sense.

I grabbed my purse with a pre-packed breakfast waiting inside and snuck out without waking papá, who was sprawled out and snoring on the Murphy bed. After getting ready in the apartment building's public bathroom (which was actually maintained surprisingly well) I hurried out before David could catch me and ate my breakfast as I walked to school.

•••

I felt like someone was watching me all day, which was really saying something because I'd been invisible at this school since my first day. I felt theory two begin to gradually ring more likely with each passing minute. But I could never catch whoever it was that watched me all day, and that unnerved me to no end.

I tried to reassure myself that I was just being paranoid and that there was no way Spider-Man went to my school, but matters were only made worse when I witnessed the red and blue hero whisk by me through the air to stop a robber on a stolen bike.

I sucked in a nervous breath and kept walking. I would only make myself look suspicious if I turned and bolted in the other direction, which was exactly what I wanted to do.

"This anyone's bike?" Up ahead, Spider-Man was now holding the stolen bike and asking anyone who walked past him.

 _Shit_.

I pulled my hood over my head and looked away as I walked by, but still felt a determined finger poke my shoulder.

"Miss?" Another poke. "Excuse me, miss? Is this your bike?" A hand gently grasped my shoulder. "Miss?"

"No," I snapped, and tried to hurry away but he whirled me around to face him.

"Hey, it's you! You ran away from me yesterday!" Somehow, Spider-Man had recognized me by my _freaking voice!_ I wrenched myself from his grip and ran.

"Hey! Wait up!" He called, but I refused to stop. Then I began to wonder... _Why'd he let me go? He could've easily grabbed me._

My thoughts were cut short when Spider-Man landed on the sidewalk right in front of me, causing curious faces to turn and watch with excitement.

"Whew! You know, you could've waited for me to write that note before running off. I almost lost you there!" I turned down an alley so I wouldn't run into him, but he just shot into the air with his webs and landed in front of me again.

"What the hell do you want with me?" I demanded. "And how the hell do you know who I am?" He held his hands out as if to calm me and prove himself to be peaceful.

"I just wanna ask you a few questions." I crossed my arms.

"You're not gonna throw me to the police?"

"...No." I narrowed my eyes in confusion.

"Why not?"

"Because I figure you have a good reason for what you did." I lifted a brow questioningly.

"Oh really? And what makes you think that?" He shrugged.

"Because I know you're a good person."

"And how the _hell_ do you know who I am?" I spat.

"Uhhhh, that's... that's a good question."

"Then you better have a good answer."

"Well I'd love to tell you but that would kinda reveal my identity and that's supposed to be a secret, so I can't really tell you," he rambled, then added a sorry in the hopes of warding off any hostilities I may present.

"Well if you won't answer my questions then I won't answer yours."

"That's a little unfair considering I _did_ help you the other day. So technically you owe me," he pointed out.

 _Huh. I guess he did fix my bag and didn't turn me in to the police..._

"Alright fine. You can ask me one question."

"One!?" He sputtered in disbelief, "th-that's it!?"

"You wanna make it zero?"

"No." His eyepieces narrowed. I could tell from his tone of voice that he wasn't enjoying how unhelpful I was being. "Why'd you steal all that stuff yesterday?"

 _Well that's a dumb question._

"Because I need it. I didn't just steal for the hell of it, you know. I had no other choice."

"Why can't you just buy it?" I clenched my jaw and let my gaze fall on something else.

"That was one question," I ground out angrily. "So you can quit stalking me now."

"Kasey-"

" _Don't_ say my name. You're creeping me the hell out. Just... unless you wanna tell me who you are and how you know me, just stay out of my life." Spider-Man froze with wide eyepieces. He just... seemed to turn to stone under my fiery gaze and harsh words. And, well, suffice to say I felt like a monster. Here was someone—probably the first person in my life that cared—who was clearly concerned, and I was being a paranoid jerk. I took a deep breath and calmed myself.

"Sorry, I'm just a little freaked out right now. I always thought that I was the most invisible person in Queens, but somehow you know me and I have no idea how or why and it's all kinda freaky." He nodded and scuffed a foot across the pavement absently.

"I know, sorry about that. I'm not very used to the whole secret identity thing either. I just wanna make sure you're okay, you know? Cuz kids your age shouldn't have no other choice than to steal. So what's goin' on?" I could feel myself on the verge of breaking down, and I willed myself to keep it together.

"I have no money," was all I said. And it's all I could say without falling apart in front of Spider-Man.

"Why? Where're your parents?" He was pressing, but it was gentle; like an offer that I could reject if uncomfortable. Because of this, I found myself liking him more, and before I knew it, words were pouring from my mouth.

"Papá is too drunk and angry all the time to even tell me what happened to mamá, so I let him be and try to keep us afloat. But we haven't been able to pay rent in forever because I'm selfish and secretly spent the money on school." I shrugged with a bitter laugh. "Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if we get kicked out of our apartment this week." I closed my eyes and sighed sharply. "Sorry, I didn't mean to." But it was too late, I'd already spilled my guts to him.

"Why haven't you gotten help? You need to talk to someone, or–"

"Who am I gonna talk to?" I demanded. "Who can possibly help? They'll take papá away and throw me into foster care or something."

"Does he–?"

"No. I'm fine." It was a lie, but he already knew enough. I didn't need anymore pity from this guy.

"Kasey, don't lie, I want to help you. I can't let you live like this when I know I can do something about it," he was growing desperate, which was a sign that I needed to leave.

"What can you do if you don't want me—or anyone—knowing who you are?"

"I-I don't know..." he admitted in defeat.

"Exactly... so I appreciate the concern, but save it for another victim that _can_ be helped, okay?" I turned to leave the alley and commence my search for a job, but a gloved hand curled around my own, making me jump around in surprise.

"Lemme take you somewhere or get you something. When's the last time you had good food?" I sighed wistfully. I'd been way too long, but I shook my head.

"No thanks, I really have to start looking for a job." Besides, I'd be getting some totally weird looks if I went out for something to eat with Spider-Man. He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Right. I guess I'll see you around then."

 _Huh, does he seem kinda dejected?_ Spider-Man spun and hopped onto the alley wall, his hands and feet glued to the brick as if they were magnetic. And he just crawled right up—exactly like a spider would.


	4. Chapter 3

**PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING:**

 **Warning: this chapter contains a brief and very poorly written scene of verbal/mental abuse**

 **AN: There is a short scene of Kasey being verbally/mentally abused by her drunk father but I have zero idea as to what abuse is like so it's not very accurate and I apologize immensely for that.**

 **If you don't feel comfortable reading it, the scene will be marked with ~!~ before and after.**

•••

I dropped into my hammock with a hopeless groan. My job hunt had yet again been unsuccessful, and with no income and our small supply of money quickly dwindling, there was no way to pay the rent and no other option but to steal. It wouldn't be hard with my experience in thieving, but I despised it with every bone in my body, and hated myself for being so good at it. And what if I got caught? What would happen then? As much as I hated this life I lived, it was better than spending my years in a juvenile hall with other young delinquents. Yet, it seemed to be inevitable. My future was about as bright as the void growing inside me, slowly tearing me apart bit by bit.

I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes and the sting of tears as an ugly sob escaped me. And for the first time in five years, I allowed myself to cry.

Years of built up tears poured down my face in a raging waterfall that seemed to have no end. I felt no need to kick and scream and demand justice from this world, because all of that anger seemed to flow right out of me along with my tears. And as I stared up at the ceiling in silent agony, all I could hopelessly think about was how Spider-Man knew I existed, and that he desperately wanted to help me even though I was beyond being saved.

•••

A light thump on the balcony and rattle of a glass pane on the door jolted me awake. And even though the sun still shone into the apartment and I'd only been asleep for a few minutes, I didn't hesitate to silently roll out of my hammock, body tense for anything. I snuck along the wall and peered carefully around the corner, only to find the balcony empty. The only sign of anyone having been there were four plastic shopping bags filled with what looked like groceries and a note stuck to a glass pane on the door. When I realized that a familiar webbing was keeping the note stuck to the window, I knew who was behind the delivery.

'It's not a crime to ask for help. If you need anything just let me know.

Your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

P.S. And no more law-breaking! ;D'

 _What a stubborn guy._ I shook my head and pulled one of the double doors open. A slight breeze greeted me, gently teasing my dark hair from it's loose, haphazard bun. I scanned the surrounding buildings for any sign of him, but he was gone. It must have been a quick drop-off or something. I hauled the heavy bags inside, and was unable to stop smiling the entire time I unpacked the contents. Then—with some effort, time, and a knife—I managed get the note and all the webbing off the window so papá wouldn't see it and grow suspicious. I began to worry about how I'd explain where all this good food came from when I realized he'd probably be too out of it to even notice, let alone question me about it. So I set to work making sandwiches that I stowed in the fridge for quick, future meals.

•••

 _"KASANDRA!"_ I froze, my pencil dropping from my hand.

He's never been home this early before.

Everything in the apartment seemed to tremble when the door four stories down was slammed shut. My heart thumped almost painfully in my chest as papá's angry footsteps grew louder and louder as he ascended the stairs rather rapidly.

"Florez! You break my door, you pay for it! And where in God's name is my rent!? You haven't paid me since June!"

 _Oh shit, that's David! He's gonna get killed!_ I rushed to my feet and threw the door open. David's head whipped around to look at me in surprise.

"Yer pa's drunk as a skunk, kid. He always like this?"

"No," I lied. "But when he is, he's _really mad_. You need to get back in your room or he'll explode when he sees you."

"Noway in hell, kid. I want my rent!"

"You'll get your damn rent! Now get inside!" For a moment he seemed ready to comply, but then it disappeared and was replaced with concern I never knew he had.

"Can't leave you to deal with him when he's ragin' like this," he grumbled.

 _"KASANDRA!"_ He was almost to the top by now, and if he saw David he would freak out and make matters worse for all of us.

"I've handled this before. He won't get mad at me, but he _will_ get mad at _you_ ," I insisted, still lying. David nodded

"Alright, holler if yer in trouble," he said before retreating to his own room and locking the door. And just in time too, papá just missed him.

 **~!~**

"Kasandra!" He snarled. "Gimme the money." He stumbled on the top step and rushed forward to clutch me and keep himself from falling on his face. It was an effort not to push him off of me and run from his desperate grasp.

"Are you alright, papá?" I asked, trying my hardest not to gag on the smell of sweat and beer that seemed to constantly permeate from his skin.

"I need money," he repeated, heaving himself unsteadily to his feet and fumbling with the doorknob.

"Are you hungry? I made sandwiches." I found that distracting papá from whatever he wanted always worked best until he fell asleep or passed out. His anger was beginning to grow from his inability to open the door, but if I interfered it'd only get worse. I released the breath I was holding when he finally suceeded, and sent a silent prayer to God that I'd make it through tonight.

"Where's it?" He demanded, making me jump slightly as I closed the door. I knew he was talking about the small stash of money I hid with the purpose of gathering enough to pay for rent and such, but I feigned ignorance and assumed he was referring to the sandwiches. I pulled one from the fridge and set it on the table in front of him.

"You deaf, chica!?" He slammed a fist on the dinky wooden table: a warning. "I says where is the _money!?_ "

"We don't have any, papá. I'm sorry," I said quietly, my voice shaking involuntarily. That was a lie, but whatever I had would only last him a few nights at the bar before we really _were_ broke, so I couldn't let him have it.

"You _lie!_ " He hissed, pointing a shaky, accusing finger at me. "Do not _lie_ to me, chica!" Even drunk like this, papá knew to keep his voice down. He knew how to get to me without being caught by anybody else in the building.

"I am not lying papá, I swear. I–I don't remember what we spent it on."

"Your school, wasn' it? You think goin' ta school will make you desirable? You think it will get you away from me? You are stupid! Like a rock! Same as your mamá! I should sell ya for a few drinks. All's yer good for is stealing junk anyways. Yer useless and stupid and good-for-nothing waste 'a my life. Nobody _wants_ you, chica. Just like nobody wanted your mamá, and nobody wants me. Nobody _wants_ the Florez's because we're _nothing_ and _nobody_. And _you_ needs to stop believing yer any different." I stood and endured his endless tirade of quiet, furious words, all the while distancing myself from the moment by chanting to myself: _It's not true, it's not true, it's not true..._ And when I thought it was over and I brought myself back to the present to find him still spewing stinging insults, I endured it and kept chanting: _It's not true, it's not true, it's not true..._ Until I found he'd fallen asleep in a chair, slumped forward on the table. Numbly, I tossed the untouched sandwich back into the fridge, switched the lights off and curled up in my hammock for a long night of twisted dreams and haunting nightmares.

 **~!~**

 **AN: I have no idea what abuse is like, all I know is that it's awful and I'm so sorry for any victims because nobody deserves to be treated that way :(** **And so any scenes of abuse I write are probably super duper inaccurate, which I apologize for, but it's necessary to have in my story because it's a huge part of Kasey's character. If you don't want to read them, that's fine, just skip any scenes that are marked with ~!~**

 **Also, in case anybody is confused, Kasey is 15 and in grade 10, same as Spider-Man (he had to act like he wasn't last chapter so he wouldn't give away his age or anything) I forgot to mention that, sorry!**

 **And thank you to my reviewers! I love hearing your guys' thoughts! :)**


	5. Chapter 4

Was it really worth it? To endure school today when I could just stay here and sleep? Papá's snoring changed tone and he shifted on the floor. He must've fallen off the chair sometime in the night. I sighed in annoyance. His back would be sore today, along with everything else. And paired with no money for beer, he'd be in a sour mood and probably tear up the apartment searching for my money. Well... He didn't wake up until sometime past noon and my morning classes were options, so I decided to leave for school at lunch, giving myself time to catch up on sleep and study for a chemistry exam.

•••

Despite having to haul a huge binder and textbook home to start catching up on homework, I was actually fairly happy leaving school that day. I nailed my chem exam and couldn't wait to see the mark I got on it the following day, and this really quiet but totally sweet kid who was in my history class kept smiling shyly at me all day, though I couldn't remember his name and it was killing me.

Spider-Man landed with surprising grace on the sidewalk beside me, causing heads to turn in shock.

"I think this is first time I've ever seen you smile." I gaped at him in surprise.

"Did you just _jump_ off the roof of that building?" I demanded.

"Huh?" He craned his head around to follow the direction of my finger. "Oh, yeah! Pretty cool, right?" I snorted.

"Yeah, and pretty stupid." He waved a hand dismissively, obviously unconcerned.

"I drink a lot of milk, I have strong bones. Wait," he turned to look at me with narrowed eyepieces. "Are you _worried_ about me?" He asked in amusement. I rolled my eyes and poked his muscled shoulder.

"Don't let it get to your head, Spidey." He chuckled.

"So what's got you in such a good mood?" I recoiled slightly.

"You're making it sound like I'm never happy, and you've only known me for three days," I pointed out.

"Actually, I've known you for much longer than three days." A shiver travelled through my body.

"Don't say things like that, it's super creepy when I have no idea who you are."

"Right, sorry." A blaring car alarm made him perk up. "Be right back!" He shot into the sky, swinging on the webbing he fired from his wrists. I watched as he disappeared down another street, and couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to constantly be doing so many good things for so many people.

I kept walking, figuring that Spider-Man would have no problem finding me since he'd been pretty successful with it the past few days. I shifted my books in my gradually cramping arms, and I found myself wishing for the millionth time that I lived closer to Midtown.

I jumped a little when Spider-Man dropped to the sidewalk and fell into step beside me as if he'd never left.

"Sorry, I had to–" a trio of high shrieks cut him off, making my wince from the high frequency that rang through my ears.

"It's Spider-Man!" Three teenage girls who appeared only a few years older than me desperately rushed forward. Spider-Man's eyepieces widened significantly for a moment.

"Woah... Uh, hi." He gave a small, nervous wave.

"Can we get a picture with you?" One of them asked.

"Really?" It must've been the first time teen girls had approached him asking for a picture, because he was totally dumbstruck. They all nodded vigorously in response. "Uh, y-yeah, sure!" He agreed excitedly. One of the girls held her phone up and they all crowded into the frame. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing at the sight, especially when Spidey gave a thumbs up.

"Thank you!" They called, continuing on their way past us.

"No problem!" Spider-Man turned to me, and I didn't even need to see past his mask to tell he was ecstatic. "That's so cool! They like me!"

 _Yeah, who wouldn't like a heroic teenage guy in tight spandex?_

"Well what do you expect when you stroll down the street in that skin-tight onesie?" I teased, then swore as I stumbled and almost dropped my stuff.

"Here, lemme take those." Spidey reached out and snatched all but my sketchbook from my grasp before I could speak a single word of protest. "Man, what is _in_ this binder?" I smiled briefly.

"Homework," I said, stretching my sore arms gratefully. "Thanks, they were getting kinda heavy."

"Yeah no problem, but why do you have so much homework? It's only been two weeks since school started." I shrugged and loosed a sigh.

"I'm usually too busy to work on anything outside of school."

Passersby were shooting us weird and shocked looks, but Spider-Man was either oblivious or didn't particularly care. I felt weird getting so much attention, though. I wasn't used to it in the least and kept feeling the urge to dart into an alley or something to get away from all these watchful eyes.

"I feel like a celebrity," he mused. And I realized right then that to other people I either looked like an incompetent teenager or Spider-Man's girlfriend. And right then I couldn't really decide which was worse.

"And I feel like hiding," I hissed, making him laugh lightly.

"Not a fan of attention?"

"Not really a fan of _people_ , actually," I corrected. Spider-Man's hand flew to his chest in mock hurt.

"Not even me?" I quickly shook off my surprise over how easily he held my books—balanced perfectly in one hand with what seemed like no effort. It made me wonder what else this guy was capable of.

" _Definitely_ not you." I grinned, deciding to play along.

"What? Even with my undeniable charm and 'skintight onesie'?" He fired a web at the sketchbook I held and before I could react, it was in his hand and he was placing it on top of the pile of my books in his arms. One eyepiece flicked shut in a wink. I clamped my lips shut and fought the rising heat in my cheeks. I was _not_ about to admit how incredibly attractive that suit made him; it certainly didn't leave much to the imagination. I tried to play it off as best I could.

"That thing can only do so much for you, Spidey. And it'll take more than just some charm and a onesie to win me over," I grinned devilishly, but it faltered when Spider-Man suddenly wrapped my trio of books in a cocoon and handed me the string of webbing holding it together. Utterly confused, I took it without question.

"What-?"

"How do you feel about heights?" He asked, stepping closer to me. I felt my heart jump anxiously in my chest.

"Heights? I-" Spider-Man closed the distance between us and wrapped one arm around me.

"Hold on!" I stifled a scream as we shot into the air and threw my arms around his neck as directed. I wanted to demand an explanation and yell at him, but my words and anger seemed to slip away and into the wind as he whisked me through the air.

"I'm gonna need you to drop your stuff for me."

"What? Why?"

 _These textbooks are school property! If they get damaged I have to pay for them with my nonexistent money!_

"Just trust me!"

"Okay." I released my hold on my school books and Spider-Man quickly fired a web. I turned, finding my stuff hanging from my apartment balcony. He whooped, and if it was possible, we seemed to glide faster.

"That's much better."

"Where are you going?" I asked, more curious than worried.

"You'll see." I wasn't at all concerned, so I just relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of flying.

It was strangely comforting, and my closeness to Spider-Man helped to keep me from freezing. The brief intervals of free falling made me grin uncontrollably and I wanted nothing more than to spend every day like this. It was no wonder Spider-Man was always swinging around—the feeling was absolutely intoxicating.

"Uh, are you asleep?" He asked, a tiny bit of fear playing into his voice. I desperately wanted to pretend I was, just to see what he would do, but instead I decided to give Spidey a break from all my teasing.

"Are you kidding? This is too cool to fall asleep during."

"Oh, good. You were really quiet, so I wasn't sure." We landed a bit suddenly on the sidewalk, but he managed to steady me so I wouldn't stumble.

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you like me to sing next time?" I asked, removing my arms from around his neck with a grin.

"Yeah, go for it. But we're getting ice cream first." I almost choked on my laugh.

"Are you serious?" This guy just kept on surprising me.

"Yeah, why?" His eyepieces widened slightly in horror. "Please tell me you like ice cream." I laughed.

"Yeah, of course I do. I'm just kinda surprised."

"Never had a guy in spandex take you out before?" I shook my head in answer as he strode up to Jahn's ice cream parlor and held the door open for me. I smiled.

"Thanks," then I frowned. "Wait, this is a date?"

 _Back the hell up, Spidey! That was_ way _too quick! I mean, for starters, I don't even know your real name!_

"Uh, n-no! I mean, o-only if you want it to be but if you don't th-then it's not, and that's fine." I smiled, finding that I kind of liked how he rambled when he was nervous and ended up stuttering a little.

"I think I'd just like to hang out," I said stepping into the ice cream parlor.

"R-right, yeah, that's cool." Every head in the building turned toward us, completely dumbstruck. Uncomfortable under their gazes, I turned away and scanned the menu, completely at loss over what to order. Thankfully, the usual noises of the ice cream parlor returned quickly enough.

"I've never been here before," I admitted quietly.

"Really? I haven't been here in forever but I love this place, they have awesome sundaes." Spider-Man stepped up to the cashier, who blinked at him as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Hi, can I get two scoops of vanilla cherry ice cream?"

 _Woah, that's a flavor!? Noway!_

He pulled a wad of cash from a small compartment in his utility belt and motioned for me to order.

"That actually sounds really good, so I'll have the same thing but just one scoop please." I could almost see the confusion through Spidey's mask.

"What? Only one?" He turned to the cashier. "Make that two scoops." The man just nodded dreamily and punched it into the register, then announced our total, which was surprisingly cheap. I watched in equal disbelief as Spider-Man payed the man, then we stood off to the side and waited for our ice cream.

I kind of wanted to punch him for adding that extra scoop to my order, but who was I kidding? I'd originally wanted the two scoops but felt it was the polite thing to do to order less, since he was paying for me. But he must've seen right through me. Though, he didn't really need to since I was so obviously thin. Especially with my stomach almost constantly making 'feed me' noises.

Instead, I just murmured a heartfelt thank you.

 **AN: Okay I'll keep is short since I just ranted on my other story lol.**

 **Soooo school started today (ewwww) and I'm gonna have massive homework all semester cuz I have all my sciences plus math. So finding time to write and update is gonna be super hard. Sorry, but I'll try my best :) :)**


	6. Chapter 5

"So Tony Stark made your suit?" I repeated, totally awestruck.

"Yeah, I mean I had my own suit before this one, but it was just a blue and red hoodie and sweatpants with these _crazy_ goggles and web shooters that I made," he chuckled and licked his ice cream with a nod. "It was pretty bad."

"And he made you a suit because...?"

"Oh, cuz he needed my help with the Avengers. Something about Captain America going crazy and the team splitting or something. I dunno, he didn't really tell me much."

"You met the _Avengers!?_ "

"Yeah! It was the coolest thing that ever happened to me! I stole Cap's shield and he gave me a black eye, then I took down this guy that like, made himself bigger than an airplane! And I fought another guy and he had a metal arm and also threw a car at me. Aw it was..." He shook his head as if he was still getting over the amazement of it all. "It was _so_ cool."

"So you're an Avenger?" I asked, licking at my illegally delicious ice cream cone. Spider-Man shrugged.

"Kind of, I guess. Mr. Stark said he'd call me when they go off on another mission."

"That's so cool. And you just run around fighting crime every other day?" He nodded.

"Yup."

 _Jeez, I wish_ my _life was that successful._

My feet dangled over the edge of the high rooftop we sat on, unconsciously swinging back and forth. It was the only place where we wouldn't get bombarded with weird looks from people and girls demanding for pictures with Spidey.

"Does that mean I'm messing up your schedule then?" I asked, peering over at him discreetly. Ever since he'd rolled up the bottom of his mask to just below his nose so he could eat, I could barely keep myself from staring. I memorized every line, curve and contour of his mouth, lips, jawline and throat.

"Nah, I'm still on duty cuz I'm your probation officer."

"Probation officer?" I repeated. "Is that really necessary?" He nodded.

"It's either that or the police."

"I'm pretty sure probation officers don't take their offenders out for ice cream," I pointed out.

"Well all I have to do is keep an eye on you and I wanted ice cream. You can think of it as a reward for your good behaviour." He flashed me a heart stopping grin that I found myself returning without hesitation.

"You have ice cream like, all over your face," I laughed, watching as his eyepieces widened and what I could see of his lower face paled significantly.

"I do?" He asked with a slightly horrified grimace. "Where?" I reached a hand out to point it out for him, then quickly redirected and smacked the bottom of his hand so his ice cream plopped right into his face.

"Right there," I said, gleefully licking my own cone and doing my best to contain my laughter. Spidey's mouth remained open as he stared at me in shock. I motioned to my entire face, providing him with a very accurate visual representation of his own. "It's like, everywhere." He nodded.

"Thanks."

I barely knew Spider-Man, but I knew enough to discern from his body language that he was far from angry with me. In fact, he was probably plotting his revenge right then. With that thought in mind, I quickly finished off my own cone so he couldn't do the same thing to me while he used napkins provided from Jahn's to remove the cherry vanilla ice cream from himself. I almost felt bad putting such good ice cream to waste but I just could not resist.

"That was a good try, Kasey. But it's gonna take a lot more than that to get me to take my mask off," he said, flashing me a devilish smile before pulling his mask on completely.

 _Huh, I never really thought of that._ I shrugged.

"I just really wanted to do that."

"Well I might really want to drop you on the way back to your apartment," he warned, balling up the napkins and wrapping them in a layer of webbing.

"That seems a bit extreme," I argued, nervously laughing a little. I watched in confusion as he tossed the napkin ball across the street far below us. I squinted, trying to track it's path.

"Did you just litter?" I asked accusingly. Spidey glanced at me in equal confusion.

"No..." When I showed no signs of comprehending, he continued slowly as if to doubly ensure I understood. "I tossed it into a garbage can."

"You did?" I narrowed and strained my eyes in a useless attempt to see past the blur in my vision. "Can't see it." I shrugged. "Must be your spider senses." He nodded absently, his attention suddenly diverted to a small splash of ice cream on his thigh. With a sigh through his nose and a slight shake of his head, he swiped the mess away with a finger and met my gaze with a promise for revenge.

"This is gonna be really hard to wash out, so I think me dropping you will make us pretty even."

"In my defence, smelling like cherry vanilla ice cream is _not_ the worst thing in the world," I argued, though Spider-Man mustn't have had the same opinion because he was showing no signs of agreement. "Okay," I said, deciding to accept my fate. "Just as long as you catch me before I become a pancake."

He nodded. "Sounds reasonable." "Can't have you die on me yet, you're the most interesting thing in Queens." I felt my cheeks flush then, and I could do absolutely nothing to stop it. How could I—out of everybody and everything in Queens—be the most interesting?

"But... don't you love fighting crime?" I squeaked in a timid voice so unlike my own.

"Uh...y–yeah, but... I dunno, you're just so different and I can't seem to get away from you. It's weird," he must've caught my bewildered and disbelieving expression because he was quick to reassure me. "No no, I-I like it, don't worry. You're really cool." My throat constricted due to overwhelming relief and I felt the unmistakable burning of potential tears behind my eyes, but I held myself together.

"Really?" My voice cracked slightly and a hesitant smile slowly worked it's way onto my face.

"Uh, yeah. Why–?" His voice broke off and whatever question he intended to ask was forgotten when I threw myself against him and my arms around his neck in a desperate hug. His confusion was evident, but I had no way to tell him without the inevitable pity that would result from an explanation.

"Thank you," I murmured. "You have no idea how much that means to me." Just those few words proved everything my father had spat at me for the past ten years of my life to be wrong. They imbued me with new strength and ambition, and I had no possible way to explain to my saviour just how significant his words were to me.

"Uh, you're welcome." I could almost hear all the unasked questions in his voice that he forced down at the moment. Though I knew I'd have to answer them all at some point.

•••

Spider-Man never dropped me. In fact, he seemed about as reluctant as I was to be returning to my apartment. Somehow, during those past few hours with him, I'd actually forgotten about all my worries and life's negativities and had lived how I'd always dreamed to. But when my feet touched my balcony, reality fell back into place. And I realized that for someone like me, the possibility of having a life like that was as nonexistent as papá's ability to be an actual father to me.

I tried my best to smile as convincingly as possible for Spider-Man.

"Still not a fan?" He asked, casually leaning back against the balcony's railing. The nonchalant action brought forth a genuine laugh from me.

"I dunno..." I said with a grin, feigning hesitancy.

"Man, you are _really_ stubborn, y'know that?" Spidey spun suddenly and leaned over the railing. My brief panic subsided when I realized he was only retrieving my stuff, which still hung from the balcony's edge in his nest of webbing.

"Thank you for everything. I had a lot of fun." And it was the heartfelt truth. For the first time in what felt like ever, I'd had fun. And it was all because of this guy.

"Yeah? Me too. I'll uh, let you know when I feel like ice cream again," he said, hauling up my load of homework and setting it down beside him.

"Well, you know where to find me."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Uh, do you have a pen and paper?" I raised a brow and extracted a pen from my purse, then gestured helplessly at the webbed cocoon of my homework.

"Will _just_ a pen work?" I asked, tugging my sleeve up to expose my left forearm. He nodded.

"Sure." I handed it to him, keeping my arm extended for him and watching as he scrawled a sequence of numbers onto my wrist.

"Just so you can call me in case you need anything," he spoke hurriedly, returning the pen to me.

"Oh yeah, thanks... But I don't have a cell phone so if you ever try to call me back it'll go to a payphone," I explained quietly, looking down at my hands and fiddling with the pen. Even though he wore a mask, I still couldn't stand to meet his gaze when I knew he looked at me with that damned pity.

The blanket of silence atop us quickly made the atmosphere stuffy and uncomfortable with awkwardness.

"So, is there an easy way to get this stuff off?" I asked, gesturing to my schoolbooks still securely wrapped in his webbing. Spidey grimaced.

"Well I do have a solution for it, but it's at home and would wreck your books. So just cut it off and if that doesn't work then freeze it. But don't let it heat up, that'll only make it worse." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, I didn't really think that through." I shrugged.

"That's okay. I managed with the note so it'll be fine." Spidey nodded again and shifted his weight on his feet. I realized too late that the aura I was giving off must've been less than friendly, but before I could explain, a firetruck siren wailed and the smell of smoke reached us. Spider-Man's eyepieces widened and he whirled around, only then noticing the thick column of smoke billowing into the sky 10 blocks away.

"Oh no. I gotta go, sorry!" He fired a web and shot into the air before I could say anything. "I'll see you later!" He called, then disappeared behind another building in a blur of blue and red.

With a heavy sigh, I turned and pushed one of the two, balcony doors open. The sight that met my eyes was enough to bring forth the burn of tears and suck all the energy from my body. My eyelids fluttered shut as I ran a hand exhaustedly over my face, praying that everything before me wasn't real. But when I reopened my eyes, the apartment and it's interior still appeared to have been torn apart by some wild beast. And the culprit was nowhere in sight, much to my relief. I'm not sure what I would have done if papá had still been inside, continuing to ransack our home in the hopes of coming across my meager stash of money.

I sucked in a sharp breath as my heart began to pump faster and I scrambled into my nook. Fear pulsed through my veins, and grew with each heart palpitation until I'd recovered a small flashlight and found the battery compartment still safely containing my cash. I collapsed into my hammock in relief, thanking God that my father was an utter idiot wether he was sober or drunk.

 **AN: So I'm gonna update on Wednesdays now cuz Tuesdays are starting to get super hectic.**

 **Anywhooo, I thought this scene was pretty cute :D**


	7. Chapter 6

I must've drifted off at some point because suddenly there was an angry pounding on the door and the apartment room was slightly darker than I remembered.

"Florez!" I suppressed a groan at the sound of David's enraged voice.

" _Florez!_ I know you're in there! And if you don't gimme my rent I'll throw you outa here so fast you won't have time to take any of yer shit with you!" I looked down hopelessly at the wad of money in my hand. It wasn't even enough to cover July's rent.

My heart dropped, and I realized with sinking dread that papá and I were going to be homeless if I didn't do something.

"I'm done being nice, Florez! Open the damn door!" I was left with no choice but to beg and lie and thieve my way through this mess yet again. With a heavy sigh, I stuffed the money into my jacket pocket and rolled out of my hammock. Then wrenched the door open while using a ridiculous amount of willpower to keep the glare off my face and the anger from my voice.

"Sorry, I was asleep." My voice was as sickly sweet as I could manage, but David didn't seem to be buying my act. He jabbed an angry finger at me.

"Don't bullshit me, it's six o'clock. Teenagers don't sleep until four a.m." I almost snapped back at him for that comment, but forced myself to keep up my charade.

"I was tired," I said, shrugging helplessly and leaning against the frame while keeping the door close to my side so I'd block any view of the mess inside. "What do you need?" I knew exactly what he was there for, but I wanted to annoy him at least a little if I had to grovel. And man was I ever successful. David was absolutely _fuming_.

"The rent you haven't paid since June!" He replied sharply. I didn't even need to force my face into an apologetic grimace.

"Sorry about that. We've been kinda hard on money lately..." _Well isn't that the understatement of the year._

"Yeah I bet you are with yer pa gettin' hammered every night." It didn't take much effort for my face to fall and my gaze to drop in embarrassment, either. But it _did_ take quite a bit to keep my anger in check.

"Yeah, it's just how he... deals with things," I murmured quietly, sadly.

"Well unless you wanna deal with getting kicked out too, I suggest you pay up."

"I get my paycheque tomorrow, that's when you'll get your money." It was a both a lie and a declaration, and it left no room open for debate. I shouldn't have spoken to David with such authority, but I had to prove to him I wasn't just a typical teenager that allowed themselves to be bossed around.

Our fierce gazes locked in an intense staring contest, and he narrowed his eyes at me as he leaned in closer.

"If yer pa storms in here hammered all to hell and wakes the whole complex one more time, I'll throw you right outa here with nothin' but the clothes you got on yer backs. Ya get me?"

I nodded curtly and intentionally mocked him in a rude manner. "I got ya."

He grunted. "Good." And the moment he moved to leave I swung the door shut before he could turn and spit something else in my face.

•••

 _That bastard._ I gritted my teeth angrily as I stormed about the apartment, slowly but surely cleaning up the mess papá had created. _That selfish,_ effing _bastard!_ I bit my tongue hard, keeping my cries of annoyance and rage inside and instead punching a pillow as I placed it back on the dilapidated couch.

"I hate him," I muttered, my voice cracking and betraying my misery _. I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!_ But I didn't let my anger out on the pillow again—I was too exhausted to be angry, and too exhausted to want to care anymore.

I dropped onto the couch with a defeated sigh, because it had at last gotten to me. I didn't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to care, or try, or anything. I just wanted it to be over—for it to _end_ , and for things to get _better_. I felt so drained and hollow and lost and so, so hopeless I could sit right here where I am and never get back up again.

But I pushed away every one of those thoughts before I could get carried too far downstream, because I had to.

I didn't want to. I wanted nothing more in my heart than to just _stop_.

But I _had_ to. Because what else was there for me? I'd been a criminal since I was five, thieving and stealing for the sake of survival only for it to poison me in return. But I'd been a fighter since my first breath. And I'd never stopped fighting before—not once. So I couldn't stop fighting now. No way in _hell_ would I stop fighting now. Not when papá was still around, and not when there was someone I might hurt. If I stopped now, I'd be leaving papá to fend for his own horrible self, and I might hurt my only possible friend. So I'd continue to fight, and keep the poison at bay. At least for a while longer.

 **AN: It was kinda hard to pick this story up and keep writing, so I'm not too happy with this chapter but oh well.**

 **Someone in my school had a live duck in their backpack today and the other day my bio teacher walked around showing us a moose heart one of the students gave her. My school's weird af lmao.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Warning: this chapter contains a very poorly written scene of verbal/mental/physical abuse**

 **AN: There is a short scene of Kasey being verbally, mentally and (briefly)physically abused by her drunk father but I have no experience with drunken behaviour and abuse so it's inaccurate (sorry!)**

 **If you don't feel comfortable reading it, the scene will be marked with ~!~ before and after and will be briefly summarized at the end of the chapter so the story can still be understood and readers can still follow along.**

 **•••**

I dropped my pencil and shook out my hands with a grimace. I'd been working on homework for almost four hours now, and my fingers were aching to no end. But strangely enough, I felt so much better with all my homework done and out of the way—like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and made my load lighter, if only by a minuscule amount. With a small smile, I gratefully packed away my completed homework and placed it in my room. Thankfully, it hadn't taken very long to get it free of Spider-Man's webbing.

Something heavy thudded against the apartment door, followed by several unsuccessful attempts to turn the doorknob. And just like that, my momentary peace and happiness evaporated like water droplets in a desert.

 **~!~**

I made my way over to the door with a sigh, and was just about to help him out before he started to get _really_ mad when it finally swung open and papá stumbled right into me. I choked on his foul odour and hurriedly steadied him, then took a step back to breathe without worrying for my health.

"Kasandra," he mumbled, swaying slightly on his feet and watching blearily as I shut and locked the door.

 _How does he still manage to get this drunk even when he claims to have no money?_

"You should sit, papá," I offered, gesturing to the couch in what I hoped looked to him like genuine concern.

"No," he snapped, desperation making him suddenly wild. "I need money." He whirled around too fast and ended up stumbling into the wall like a toddler would ram into glass. I winced and prayed he wouldn't be too mad about that.

"Would you like a glass of water?" I offered, my voice coming out more timid than I'd like.

"No," he repeated, growing angrier. "Money!"

"We don't have any," I insisted, almost in a pleading tone.

" _You_ do," he retorted accusingly.

"No, I... I used it all to pay David." Papá's eyes locked on me with feral aggression and untamed fury.

" _What?_ "

"I had no choice, papá," I said quietly. "He was going to throw us out."

"Tomorrow," he growled. "You miss school an' you get me more money." I nodded numbly. But then words shot out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I don't want to." And I regretted them and hated myself for it yet I was relieved and determined and angry. All at the same time. I wanted with everything in me to stop stealing; I wanted to live a normal life, or at least come as close as I could get to living one. I was done with being a criminal and done with being bossed around by my drunk papá. And maybe it was because of Spider-Man's obvious concern toward me that I finally stood up against papá, because that guy—whoever he really was—made me want to be a better me. When I was around him, I felt ashamed of myself and my life. And I'd always longed to fix it, but I'd never made a conscious effort to. And like countless other things following my first meeting with Spider-Man, that changed.

Papá was surprised, if only for a moment. But that moment had made me feel empowered for the first time. And I liked that feeling. But it only lasted for a few seconds before his astonishment was instantly replaced with molten fury.

"Ya don't _wanna_?" He repeated, eyes narrowed at me in disbelief. I bit my lip hard to keep myself from saying something that might land me further in trouble. Yet I still shook my head. I just couldn't bring myself to abandon whatever it was I'd started. Like a viper, Papá's hand darted forward faster than I'd thought was possible for a drunken man and clamped around my lower wrist with a grip like a vise.

"Listen 'ere, _chica_ ," he hissed. "I do not care if ya _'don't wanna steal'_. I needs the money so you needs to get me it. Not tell me _'no'_ like you some arrogant white-man. You _mine_ and you do as I tells you!" He leaned closer to my face, as if he knew that I couldn't stand his stench. "¿Comprende?" I had the audacity to glare at him, but the brains to keep my mouth from spewing anything else that might warrant a strike or two.

"I understand." My refusal to reply in Spanish enraged him further, and his hand compressed around my forearm with a grip that could halt blood circulation to my hand and fingers. But if he realized the pain he was inflicting, he didn't care and instead increased the pressure and roughly tugged me even closer to him.

"Do not tell me no again, chica. You listen to what I say, and you do what I tells you to. No questions. _¿Comprende?_ "

"Entiendo." I wrenched my hand from his grasp and rubbed the skin to encourage the return of proper circulation. He glared at me, then down at his now empty hand. And surprise flitted across his face. Confused, I followed his gaze to find black streaks on his hand. My heart dropped in horror as I watched his eyes narrow on my lower wrist and the now smudged numbers partly concealed under my fingers. In a poor and desperate attempt, I dropped my hands, allowing my jacket sleeve to fall back down and cover the pen. But even in his drunken state, papá was not blind, and nor was he a complete and utter idiot.

His fury returned tenfold, with absolutely no room for mercy.

" _What_ is _that?_ " He growled, pointing a partially shaky finger at my left arm, which I'd tried to slowly and discreetly move behind my back.

"My homework." I sounded much more sure than I felt, but I was far from convincing. And even though I knew how fast he could somehow move, I was still unable to dodge his grasping hand. I bit my lip to keep my surprised yelp mostly contained.

Against my will, Papá wrenched my stubborn arm forward and tore my sleeve up to reveal Spider-Man's phone number printed neatly on my skin. He glowered up at me with his glassy, hazel eyes.

" _What_ ," he repeated. "Is this?" His eyes promised me something awful if I repeated the same, terrible lie or if I came up with a new, equally as bad one. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much he'd broken me—I refused to.

He curled his hand around my wrist harder, digging his nails into my skin in an attempt to wring the answer from me. And even though he drew small rivulets of blood from beneath his nails, I still didn't answer him. I just matched his wrathful, unwavering gaze with my own.

Papá's nostrils flared and he yanked me toward him with a force that could tear my shoulder from it's socket. So I allowed my feet to carry me after him. He dragged me to the sink and I immediately recognized his intentions. I desperately looked down at my arm, making out the partly smudged numbers and committing the sequence to memory. He snatched up the small bottle of dish soap and poured it across my arm that laid within the sink. The soap ran across my skin, some of it entering the open incisions papá had created. I bit my tongue against a pained whimper, and forced myself to remain still as he picked up the scrub-pad I used to clean dishes and began to vigorously rub the harsh material across the written numbers. The soap foamed and more entered my wounds, which were slowly being torn open even further from the scrub-pad. They stung like a billion fresh paper-cuts, and my arm—now rubbed raw—was feeling like three layers of skin had been removed was burning like hell from the ever-increasing friction. Tears threatened to spill at any moment, and the iron tang of blood had welled in my mouth from biting my tongue to ward off any pained noises.

I swear my pores must've been on the verge of tearing open and spewing blood everywhere when he finally stopped, but my reprieve only lasted long enough for him to reach over and blast water from the tap. Steam rose, and I I wanted to fight against him, I wanted to disobey and be my own person and refuse to be harmed like this but too many things were at risk that I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't threaten my only home, my wellbeing, any chance I have at reconciling with my last-known family member and the only life I'd ever known. I'd be alone and hopeless and without purpose. I couldn't do that to myself.

But the scalding water was like molten metal. It washed away the stinging soapsuds only to reveal the true, reddened state of my skin and irritate it further. I shut my eyes against the sight because I'd been completely unaware of just how desperate and enraged papá really was.

And yet even still... how could anyone bring themselves to harm another person in such a way? I felt sick that I'd seen no hesitation present in his actions, and almost no life in his eyes despite the harm he was intentionally inflicting upon me—his own daughter. Though I suppose it was impossible to force love upon someone who so clearly had no interest in the emotion. Or really, any decent emotions. He seemed to be drunkenly angry more often than not. And right then when he'd seen Spidey's phone number, he knew that I had some sort of connection to somebody, and that was a threat to him. So he'd reacted in the only manner he knew of: instilling fear through the form of violence.

Papá's fingers momentarily slackened and I immediately seized the opportunity to rip my hand free of his grasp. He just switched the tap off and turned to me with a glare like death.

"That is a lesson to you, chica. Do not lie to me and do not think anyone cares 'bout you 'cause they don't." I returned the glare as best I could through tear-blurred vision.

 _He's wrong, he's wrong, he's wrong..._

"You think you's in a world that will has a good ending, but that does not exist. You cannot be dreamer! Get your head out the sky, chica. This is no happy world, no one will _rescue_ you. No one _cares_ ," he hissed, breath washing over me like a cloud of suffocating acid. _"¿Comprende?"_

 _It's not true, it's not true, it's not true..._

"Entiendo." My voice was nothing more than a choked breath of air, forced from my lungs with all the energy I could muster.

He grunted and made toward the couch on unsteady feet. I remained standing still as death by the sink's edge—frozen and shaking, enraged and exhausted. I didn't want to cry. I was so tired of all these emotions and this life and papá. My horrible, awful papá.

Did I deserve this life? Is this what I'm to endure to make up for my lifetime of crimes?

With hopelessness pressing down on my heart like the heaviest weight, I made my way to my hammock and fell into the blanket and closed my tear-rimmed eyes despite knowing sleep was far from achievable.

 **AN: Thursdays are my new updating days cuz Wednesdays are about to get hella busy.**

 **Sorry for the depressing chapter but we're just about through with it!**

 **For anyone who skipped it, I've summarized it here:** **Kasey's papá comes home drunk again and demands for money. She lies and tells him she had no choice but to pay David, so he gets mad and orders her to miss school the following day to steal more money for him. Kasey finds it in herself to say no (because Spider-Man makes her want to be a better person and stand up for herself), but her papá just grabs her wrist and gets mad at her. After, he notices black streaks on his hand from the pen on Kasey's wrist. He drags her to the sink, giving her time to memorize Spidey's number, and he forcefully washes it off under super hot water and rubs her skin raw. He then tells her that she doesn't live in a fantasy world; that no one cares and no one will save her. Kasey then lays awake all night feeling hopeless and exhausted with all her emotions.**

 **Just wanna send a huge thank you to all my reviewers! Because I love you guys and you're super great!**

 **And I'm getting slammed with a lot of homework so updates might come a bit slower and with shorter chapters. Sorry and I'll try my best to keep writing but I'm honestly sleeping whenever I can lmao school just sucks the life out of ya**


	9. Chapter 8

Running on three hours of sleep and weighed down with despair, I skulked about the city, stealing money wherever I could.

I'd much rather be sitting through history right then as opposed to adding on to my ever-growing list of crimes and risking running into Spider-Man. Though he must've been in school too, assuming he was around my age, because most men past the age of thirty usually had better things to do than swing around saving people for free just because they wanted to. Plus, his voice was kinda high, so he couldn't be any older than seventeen. And there was no way he could be much younger than me, considering he was insanely strong and basically almost took me out on a date yesterday. But that being said, he was recruited by Tony Stark himself to go to Germany and fight both with _and_ against the Avengers, so could he really be _just_ a teenager?

After a lot of thought in between thieving from vehicles, I came to the conclusion that he was between the ages of fourteen and nineteen... Which meant there was actually quite a large possibility that he attended Midtown with me! And that was worrying yet intriguing at the same time. I didn't know anyone at school though, so there's no way I could recognize him even if I saw his face. And _that_ was pretty frustrating.

I reached a hand up to rub the exhaustion from my eyes but stopped myself before I could smudge my heavy makeup. With an annoyed sigh, I settled with blinking hard and running my fingers roughly through my hair. I hated concealing my face with a mountain of makeup almost as much as I hated robbing vehicles. But it was necessary, because my hood and baggy clothing could only make me look like a guy from behind or far away. Though the makeup wasn't very convincing up close either, thanks to my feminine facial features. But it was the best I could do. And considering hidden cameras don't have the best resolution, I surmised that even if I was caught on camera or watched through traffic cams, I'd appear as a man rather than a teenage girl.

I fiddled with a long cord bunched up in my hoodie pocket, untying and retying a slip knot while my eyes scanned the mostly deserted residential neighbourhood for any manual-lock cars. It was a tiresome task with little success, since most people had ones with automatic locks. I didn't have the tech to unlock those kinds of vehicles without setting off an alarm, so I was limited to a very small amount of old cars. And since car thieves weren't uncommon in New York, it was rare to come across such vehicles sitting unattended along the side of the road; but not impossible.

Relief poured over me at the sight of the old Ford truck and I quickly tied the slip knot as I crossed the road toward it. I glanced around warily, confirming once again that the area was deserted before pulling out my cord and working it in through the seam at the top corner of the driver's side door.

My practiced hands were able to quickly pull the slip knot over the door lock, tighten it and yank it upwards. There was an answering click and I pulled the door open, hastily retrieving my cord and stuffing it back inside my pocket. A quick search of the front seat and all it's compartments rewarded me with a sizeable amount of cash. I added it to my collection and hopped out of the truck, re-locking the door before gently swinging it closed and heading on my way with a slightly heavier pocket.

•••

My entire morning consisted of the same thing: breaking into vehicles over and over and _over_ again to the point that it felt robotic—programmed. And with every crime committed I felt heavier and number to the world. I felt like a traitor to myself. I'd tried to be the person I wanted to be last night. I told myself I'd be that person because I _wanted_ to be. But once again I was doing the exact opposite because at the same time, I wanted the easy life. I didn't want to fight against my papá when it felt so hopeless and I didn't want to give him more reasons to hurt me because I was already so, so scarred I felt as if I were cutting board.

And then there was Spider-Man.

That stupid freaking guy was so annoyingly cute and sweet that it required quite a significant amount of willpower to convince myself that I _didn't_ enjoy his company. Which was a yet another big, fat lie.

It's just that when he swung his way into my life a few days ago, he made me want to be _better_. And that's what made everything so much harder for me, because I'd allowed myself to be a voiceless slave to my father for as long as I could remember. Breaking that lifestyle required more courage and strength than I'd had my entire existence. I didn't know what to do or where to start or how to _keep going_.

It felt like a trap.

When I pulled on the chains, papá just yanked harder. And I was so weak and hopeless that I instantaneously just gave up. I longed to break free but I hadn't a single clue as to how.

And Spider-Man?

My one, possible saviour? The only person on this Earth who reached a desperate, caring hand out to me?

...

He felt so far away.

 **AN: Short chapter because I'm lazy lol sorry. The next should hopefully be longer.**

 **And I'm like the furthest thing from a vehicle expert so I that robbery scene probably sucked, just have mercy and cut me some slack haha.**

 **Kasey doesn't hate Spider-Man you guys! She's just hella confused and angry and tired.**

 **I'm so freaking happy to see all my new story followers! Please leave me some reviews and let me know how you're enjoying my story!**

 **Also, Tom Holland is co-staring in a new movie called** ** _Chaos Walking_** **with Daisy Ridley! It comes out March 2019 and is based off the** ** _Chaos Walking_** **book trilogy. I highly recommend reading it, it's super awesome. Patrick Ness has an insane and unique writing style (it threw me off a bit at first, but then I learned to love it) and I think y'all should check it out :)**


	10. Chapter 9

_74%. That's it._

I sighed, flipping through my chemistry quiz dejectedly. My teacher was going over the questions at the front of the class, but my focus was so far from the front of the classroom I may as well have been floating in the middle of space. It felt as if every aspect of my life was slowly descending into a deeper pit of failure. Okay, that may have been a bit of an exaggeration. But let's be honest, I couldn't even commit the simple differences between chemical and physical properties to memory! And because of that inability, my mark had suffered sorely. Science class was usually a breeze for me and the only thing keeping my GPA above a 70. But now I had significant reason to begin to worry.

My wrist itched unceasingly beneath the sleeve of my sweater, but I could barely touch it without it burning like acid, which deemed scratching as a definite no-go. So I blew on it as discreetly as I could manage in the middle of class, which wasn't very discreetly.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the guy beside me glance over with a bewildered expression before refocusing on Ms. Sunden. I could care less though, because I'd gotten a better mark than him.

In desperate need of something to take my mind off my crazy itchy wrist, I decided to but some effort into listening to the teacher and to comprehending whatever it was she was writing. I squinted at the blue marker on the whiteboard, but the only way the letters and numbers came into a decent focus is if I concentrated super hard, and that just resulted in the beginnings of a headache.

 _This is ridiculous._ With a huff of frustration, I instead switched to doodling absently in the side margin of my quiz. My lab partner lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at me, but I ignored that too. He was just as invisible as I was at Midtown, which meant I didn't have to make conversation with him, and _that_ was a huge relief. We kinda just shared this mutual understanding through silence, so we rarely spoke. It was awkward at times, but I really didn't mind. In fact, it was quite beneficial having a quiet lab partner; there was nothing to distract me from class... except for my own wandering thoughts, of course.

The bell sounded, making me jump slightly in my seat. My partner—I think his name was Noah—was on his feet and out the door before I could even blink. Usually I was right behind him, but today I felt so heavy.

I gathered my books and hopped off my stool, dreading returning here tomorrow. I glanced around the gradually emptying room as I made my way to the front of the class. Ms. Sunden offered me a warm smile that I hastily returned in surprise. I opened my mouth to say something, but hesitated. Did I really want to complain only two weeks into the school year?

 _Yes, I definitely do. Seriously, there's noway I can do this for the rest of the semester._ I quickly steeled myself before I could lose this opportunity.

"If it's not too much trouble, would it be possible for me to move closer to the front of the class?" I asked hopefully. "I have a hard time seeing from the back." She nodded in understanding,

"Of course. I was short throughout high school too, so I think you'll benefit from moving closer, let's see..." she looked behind me at the classroom and it's few remaining occupants.

"You can work with Peter," she decided, smiling at me.

 _Peter?_ I followed her gaze to find a boy with neat brown hair regarding us in shock. Recognition struck when my eyes fell on him. The sharp jaw, the innocent eyes, the slight build hidden discreetly beneath the double layer of sweaters and the earbud strands always dangling out from his shirt collar.

 _Isn't he in my history class, too?_ His warm brown eyes darted between us in silent question, his mouth parted open slightly as if he intended to speak but couldn't form words.

"Is that alright?" She inquired. Peter closed his mouth and nodded in confirmation as he swung his backpack on.

"Perfect. Now I'm sure Noah will do just fine without a partner, so you two can work together for the rest of semester," she said, continuing to smile broadly. "Have a good day, Kasey."

"You too. Thank you." I turned to leave and found Peter already disappearing quickly through the doorway. I raced after him, navigating the raging rapids of students crowding the hallways. I almost immediately lost him, since I was basically drowning in people. I wanted to at least _say_ something to him, like 'hey, my name is Kasey. I'm not as stupid as you probably think I am. And sorry to inconvenience you with my presence for the remainder of semester, but I'm really not much of a bother.' But he ran away before I could even offer him a smile, so I guess he'd just be another silent lab partner.

•••

" _Miss_ Florez."

My eyes shot open and I was met with the unwelcoming sight of my glaring history teacher. Utterly unimpressed, he regarded me with significant disappointment. I sighed and rubbed my eyes, recalling that he'd been in the middle of a lecture when I'd first began to drift off.

"Sorry, I haven't been getting any sleep lately." His dismayed frown only deepened.

"There's no excuse for using my class as your personal nap period," he scolded. "I sincerely hope this never happens again, Kasey." I nodded, casting my gaze down to my desk.

"It won't, I'm sorry." He nodded, accepting my apology and heading to his desk at the back of the classroom. Embarrassed, I pointedly kept my eyes trained on some invisible spot on my desk. I could feel the stares of numerous students trained on me, making me want to bolt out of the room.

I really was _not_ enjoying my afternoon break from robbing vehicles as much as I'd hoped I would. I wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep—forget my never-ending mountain of issues and recently assigned homework—but I was supposed to spend my entire day robbing cars. I'd already disobeyed papá once by attending my afternoon classes, and I wasn't about to give him another reason to kill me, so I really had no choice but to do as he ordered me to.

I silently prayed that I'd actually have some sort of luck today and that I _wouldn't_ run into Spider-Man for once. The last thing I needed was his ever-present concern bogging me down and making me feel worse than ever when I realized just how bad of a person I really was. My head was absolutely _pounding_ with the presence of these thoughts.

 _God, I need to draw. When was the last time I drew anything?_ My hands itched for pen or pencil or _anything._ Anything to get this jumbled mess of shit out of my head and onto a different surface. I needed to clear my mind so I could _think_ again. I needed to get the hell out of there.

I glanced up from the wooden desktop to look at the clock hanging on the wall across the classroom.

 _Oh thank god, it should ring any second._ I had strict intentions of not making eye contact with anyone, but when I realized the brown irises my eyes had latched onto were those of my new lab partner, I just ended up staring at him with an undoubtedly ridiculous expression on my face.

Peter's eyes widened, and after a second his lips turned up in a nervous smile before he looked away sheepishly. I wasn't really aware that I'd responded with my own, small smile until after the bell had rung and I was racing from the classroom as fast as I could manage.

 **AN: I know I'm so basic, I can't believe I just made them lab partners! Lmao I couldn't help it, I drew a blank and wanted them to interact a little in this chapter so I came up with this XD**

 **So to reply to my guest reviewers (sorry I can't message my replies to you guys but I really appreciate hearing from all of you!) I'm really sorry for all the boring and depressing scenes of Kasey's home life, I promise things'll get better soon, I just had so much in my head to get out that adding in school scenes just slipped my mind lol. I also haven't seen the movie since the first week it came out so I didn't want to miss a bunch of details or anything like that. Peter was the one who was smiling at her in history! Also, in terms of a face claim for Kasey, I was thinking of Ivana Baquero. I saw one pic of her and it was exactly how I imagined Kasey. I was gonna put it up on the second chapter a while ago but I tried like everything and nothing worked so idk haha.**

 **So if anyone knows how to put a link or pic in their story please let me know!**

 **And I just wanna let you all know that I totally would have written dialogue between Kasey and Peter (I really really wanted to!) but I always get so frustrated when a character never recognizes someone by their voice because voices are** ** _clearly recognizable!_** **So yeah, Kasey would obviously recognize Peter as Spider-Man if he spoke to her because that's basically the only way she recognizes Spider-Man as Spider-Man. So that's why Peter basically ran away from her and didn't say anything after they were partnered up, because he knew she'd probably recognize him. I gotta try my best to keep it real!**

 **You guys are great! Thanks for all the feedback and reviews! I really love reading them so please keep reviewing! :)**


	11. Chapter 10

"So you're not gonna tell me?" He questioned, crossing his arms and leaning back against the railing of my apartment's balcony.

"Nope," I mimicked his stance, leaning back against the balcony door instead.

He shrugged. "Fine."

Spider-Man stared at me through those unblinking eye pieces on his mask. I held his stare defiantly, determined not to break and spill to him what I was doing this morning. Because somehow he knew that something was up, and whenever I asked how he knew, he'd just answer with 'I'm Spider-Man', which really did nothing to answer my query. I waited for a siren or alarm or cry for help to bring Spidey down to the streets below and off my goddamn balcony, but there was nothing to save me from his infectious goodness.

I really just have the worst luck ever. Because somehow—not ten minutes after I raced out of Midtown High School—I'd managed to come across Spider-Man despite my intentions of staying away from him.

An unusual ruckus coming from an alley I was passing by caught my attention. And my damned curiosity refused to let me keep walking without investigating. So I ended up stopping to look down the dark alley, and the moment I spied the familiar blue and red attire I ran out of his line of sight, but I was no match for his heightened senses. Yet by some miracle, I'd managed to make it to my apartment ahead of him, but he'd just landed on my balcony and had knocked incessantly on the glass panes until I answered.

And so there we were—having a stare off. And I may not've had a mind of my own at that point in my life, but I sure as hell had patience. And because of that, I was confident in my ability to win this one. Suddenly, Spider-Man perked up.

"I'll be right back!" And before I could reply, he'd turned and jumped off the balcony, skillfully swinging his way between buildings and out of sight. I assumed he'd heard something I hadn't and went to fight crime or help someone, so I went back inside and sat at the kitchen table to start on my homework. It was peaceful for about ten minutes before Spidey announced his return by stumbling over his feet upon landing. I watched with raised eyebrows.

"You can literally do insane parkour and yet you _still_ manage to trip over your own feet," I pointed out drily.

"That was completely intentional," he argued poorly, walking over to the table and sitting down on the only other chair, causing it to creak slightly. I looked across at him in amusement.

The red and blue crime-fighting spider was sitting at my kitchen table in my rundown apartment like a polite study buddy or school friend. It was so _weird_. I laughed and shook my head. He looked up from fiddling with a walkie-talkie-like-thing.

"What?" And I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Nothing, it just feels weird to have the neighbourhood hero sitting at my kitchen table with me in my shitty apartment." Spidey craned his head around to look at the small, single square-roomed apartment.

The kitchen consisted of a small oven and stovetop against one wall with a fair amount of counter space and drawers on either side, including a sink and a fridge. A number of cupboards lined the wall above the counter with a small microwave that sounded like it was on the verge of exploding whenever it was used. On the other side of the apartment was the living area. It had a single couch, a recliner seat and an old, box tv perched on a creaky wooden stand. The table and it's two chairs were positioned in the centre and slightly closer to the kitchen side of the apartment. And then there were two walls that seemed so out of place and formed a quite a large nook that seemed to have no purpose. I'd immediately claimed that as my room since papá seemed content with sleeping on the couch whenever he was actually home. The large, glass balcony doors took up the remaining wall space near the living area, making the place feel no bigger than a closet. It really was pathetic and I was actually quite embarrassed to have him sitting there in the middle of all of it, yet at the same time I really didn't care because he didn't seem to mind at all.

My heart jumped in surprise when the walkie talkie in his grasp suddenly crackled and a voice came through saying something about a carjacker.

"Noway!" He jumped from his seat with the radio-thing in hand, oddly excited at the prospect of stopping the criminal. "Sorry, I'll be right back!" He yelled, racing onto the balcony and shooting into the air for the second time in less than twenty minutes.

I smiled to myself and took advantage of the quiet minutes during which he was out stopping the carjacker. I immediately pulled out my sketchbook and a pencil, my need to draw becoming overwhelming. I emptied my mind onto the paper, creating an unusual and random collage of my thoughts. With every stroke of my pencil I felt lighter, yet one weight never truly left me, and I knew it wouldn't until I'd told him.

"Whew." I looked up, watching as Spider-Man strolled in from the balcony. " _That_ was insane," he said. "What are you working on?" He dropped into the other seat and leaned over the table to inspect my sketchbook page closer. I shrugged and flipped it closed, hoping to deter his interest.

"Nothing really. I just draw to clear my mind." I pushed it off to the side and grabbed my history textbook. "What's that walkie-talkie thing?" I asked, nodding to the device as he placed it on the tabletop.

"Homemade police scanner," he replied, leaning back in the chair and stretching. I tore my gaze from the rippling muscles and forced myself to focus on my week overdue homework instead. Because apparently my mind was such a jumbled mess that I had to remind myself that my schoolwork was more important than admiring Spider-Man's abs despite my horrid disagreement with that statement.

 _Priorities, Kasey. Priorities._

"You have a crazy high-tech suit and you still make your own gear?" I asked incredulously. Because you'd think a suit designed by Tony Stark _himself_ would have everything from night-vision to it's own freaking AI system.

"Well yeah, but I don't really mind... besides, this thing's really not as high-tech as I thought it'd be. I mean it's super cool but, like, where's the secret missile compartments?"

 _Secret missile compartments?_ I raised a questioning brow, unable to tell if he was serious. Spider-Man then realized his ridiculous statement and stuttered over correcting himself.

"Uh, d-no. I uh–I meant, like, thermal tracking or voice recognition or facial identification; stuff like that... Aw, or an AI! That'd be so cool if there was some guy who, like..." I smiled slightly to myself, only half-assing my history worksheet so I could listen to Spider-Man's excited chatter at the same time.

"Oh, sorry. You're trying to do homework. I'll stop talking... But, uh, if you need any help, I'm not that bad at history. S-So I could help you out... If you want."

I nodded, letting him now I acknowledged his offer. "It's fine if you keep talking though, I'm really not putting a lot of effort into this anyways."

"What? Why not?"

"Because it's already like a week overdue and I _really_ hate history," I said. "Seriously, I'm surprised I'm even doing it at this point," I laughed, copying sentences straight from the textbook even though I probably wasn't supposed to.

"Y'know if you need help with school, o-or anything, really, I can help." His voice sounded hopeful and... desperate. I exhaled through my nose and closed my eyes to control the building frustration.

"Look, I know you're concerned and want to help but you really can't _do_ anything. I-" _I can't be helped; I'm a lost cause._ "I appreciate the concern. But..." I shrugged, "I'm sick of pity. So if you really insist on sticking around and putting up with me, then please don't be a counsellor or a hero or anything... Just a friend." He seemed a bit put-off, but nodded vigorously nonetheless.

"Uh, y-yeah, sure... No problem."

"Okay," I smiled. "Thanks."

I could not believe I'd just allowed myself to accept a friendship between me and Spider-Man. I was _not_ an impulsive person in the least, and I'd _never_ allowed myself to have friends... _ever_. Honestly, I blamed him. He just had the strangest effects on me, for instance: the fact that I didn't entirely despise his presence all the time. That was a pretty big one considering I typically found most human beings to be absolutely intolerable. But not him—not Spider-Man. He was different in a way I couldn't quite explain without arousing confusion, even for myself. So I didn't really try to understand it, I just accepted it... And decided to embrace it, apparently. Because _suddenly_ I had my first friend _ever_ and I had _no_ clue what to do about it.

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "You're seriously like the first person who's actually noticed me and cares and I just–I don't know how to be nice to people or have friends and I'm probably being really rude, and I really don't mean to! It's just that I'm not used to being around people I don't necessarily hate and I'm sorry."

He was staring at me with wide eye pieces and I felt so weird and vulnerable because I just vomited out a ridiculous mess of words and feelings without having any control over it.

"You don't hate me?" He repeated, sounding a lot more excited than I'd assumed he would. In a way I was relieved he'd ignored everything I'd just said because in doing so he'd simultaneously switched the course of the conversation and saved me from having to continue down that horrifying road. It was such a Spidey thing to do.

"Not necessarily," I said, looking back down at my textbook and continuing to read it.

"Cool."

I glanced up at him and grinned.

Yeah. I guess it is pretty cool.

The scanner went off about something else I was unable to catch, but Spider-Man perked up immediately.

"Be right back!" He announced, jumping to his feet in excitement and racing out of the apartment.

And so that's how it went. Spider-Man would disappear to fight crime as he did every day and he'd return to my apartment, sitting peacefully and joking with me and occasionally helping me with homework until the police scanner spewed another update. I told him just once to stay out among the city but he vehemently insisted that he enjoyed hanging out with me and crime-fighting at the same time, so I relented and let him do his thing.

•••

At some point, I received an angry knock on my door and I couldn't be more thankful that it was while Spidey was gone.

I grabbed all the stolen money from my purse and hurried over to open the door before David could grow even angrier than I knew he already was.

"Where's my money?" He demanded immediately.

 _Well hello to you too asshat._ I gritted my teeth and ignored his nasty tone while pulling the door almost completely closed behind me so I wouldn't risk him catching a glance of Spider-Man.

"Where is it?" He repeated, lacking a significant amount of patience. I allowed some annoyance to slip into my features.

"I have it," I snapped, reaching into my hoodie pocket and extracting the exact amount of rent with an inward sigh. He snatched it from my hand without hesitation and glared at me.

"You have two weeks to pay me for August. Ya hear?"

I nodded once brusquely and he shot me a foul sneer before stomping back to his own apartment. I hurried back inside and closed the door with a sigh. I turned, finding Spider-Man sitting at the table and staring at me.

 _Shit._

It was then that I hated his mask the most because I hadn't a single clue as to what he was thinking thanks to the damn thing, nor did I have any idea what to say or do so I kind of just stared back in surprise. But saying nothing would be worse than saying something, so I smiled impulsively.

"Sorry, that was just... the apartment guy. He's a dick sometimes." I sat back down at the table and picked up my pencil to continue my homework. For a moment, I thought everything was fine and that Spider-Man would accept it as nothing, but only for a brief moment.

"Kasey, I can _help_ you, I can–"

"You can't!" I cried, my voice catching and eyes stinging because why could nothing work out!? Why did he _have_ to hear that!? Why does he _have_ _to care!?_ "You can't," I repeated, a little calmer.

Spider-Man just continued to stare and I knew he was watching me with pity and desperation and I just _couldn't handle it._

"What are you gonna do?" I asked quietly. " _I'm_ the criminal, _I'm_ the bad-guy. You can't _save_ people like me and you don't get that because you think I'm good but I'm _not_ okay!? I steal! It's all I know! I've been stealing since I was five! I'm so fucking screwed up I don't know where to start or how to escape because it's a _mess!_ " I felt the tears at the corners of my eyes and I fought them with whatever I could muster _._ "You can't fix this one, I _can't_ be _helped_." I waited for him to accept the defeat but I knew he wouldn't.

"I-I can do something, I just–"

A weight landed against the door in the same instance the handle began to rattle.

 _No._

I pressed my hands against my face, trying to rid the tears from my eyes and pull any last strength into a controlled facial expression.

 _No no no. Not now, please don't be him. It's too early!_

I sucked in a breath and rushed from my seat, dragging Spider-Man out and onto the balcony.

"You need to leave," I hissed.

"Noway," he argued. "If _that's_ your dad there's noway I'm leaving you here to deal with him alone." Before I could react, he'd pulled the left sleeve of my jacket up to expose the reddened skin of my forearm. "I know he did this to you and I can't let him hurt you anymore." I wrenched my arm from his grasp and fixed my sleeve while backing back into the apartment.

"There's nothing you can do," I insisted, closing the doors hurriedly, then the curtains overtop of them. I dashed to the other end of the apartment to open the door for papá but it was thrown open before I could reach it.

And there was papá, black and blue and bleeding from a recent beating.

 _Well that's what you get for not paying the bartender two nights in a row,_ I thought snippily.

"Kasandra," he growled, stepping forward uneasily with a predatory gaze set on me. "Where is my money?" I ignored the question and rushed to clean up my homework.

"I'll get you something to eat," I offered, piling my stuff onto one of the chairs and hoping to distract him, but it was useless.

"No! You's were s'posed to get me my money! Where's it!?" He tripped over his feet, stumbling into the other chair and making it creak loudly.

 _Please don't break, please don't break!_ Thankfully, it held under his weight.

"You don't have my money!?" He demanded, stalking toward me. I unconsciously backed away as he approached, which was a mistake and only served to anger papá further.

"You do _not_ ignore me!" He snarled, lifting a hand up and cracking it across my face with a force he'd never used before.

Determined not to show any pain, I glared back up at him despite the burning in my cheek and the roaring in my ears. He lifted his hand again but I didn't break my gaze, nor did I flinch when he tensed to hit me again.

But I never felt another blow.

Because papá was too busy staring in shock at his hand—trapped in a cocoon of thick, white webbing.

 **AN: Super long chapter because you guys are awesome and the last few chapters have been pretty shitty lol so I hope this one makes up for it! Next chapter is gonna be exciting and I'M LEAVING Y'ALL ON A CLIFFHANGER MWAHAHA SORRY NOT SORRY XD**

 **So I hope you guys enjoyed it and please leave me some feedback! Love you guysss!**


	12. Chapter 11

His deadly gaze lifted to something behind me and I immediately whirled around.

Spider-Man was _right_ there, standing _right_ behind me because of _course_ he hadn't left when I'd told him to.

He glanced down at me in silent apology and I wanted to be angry at him but I couldn't bring myself to be; I was just this huge mess of emotions and my head couldn't decide on any which one. I stared at him with saucer eyes and a mouth that refused to form words, but it was only for a brief moment before his gaze was back on my papá.

"Sir, you need to step away," Spidey said, speaking in a low voice in an attempt to sound older and more mature. Papá glared at me with this awful combination of hatred and betrayal and _rage_. I felt myself shrinking under that horrible scowl for a moment before Spider-Man—bless that stubborn, incredible boy—stepped directly in front of me, diverting papá's attention from me to him.

"Sir–" He began.

"The fuck's this, chica?" Papá demanded, still addressing me despite Spidey blocking his view. "You's trying to arrest me now!?"

"Sir, I–"

" _You!_ Get the fuck out of here now!" I flinched at the increasing volume of his voice.

"Sorry sir, I can't do that," Spider-Man announced, finally able to speak more than one word.

"And why's the _fuck_ not!?"

I _tried_ to think, I really did. I tried thinking of the best solution but

my brain was this useless, bumbling disaster of noise and it was doing absolutely nothing to help the current situation. All I knew was that papá was literally going to rip apart my first ever friend if he didn't get out of here soon. And I knew that I couldn't let that happen.

I reached a hand forward to grab Spidey's forearm, and he was instantly looking down at me in concern.

"Please get out of here," I begged, trying to convey through my words and my desperate expression that I actually _cared_. Because he was only making the situation worse for both of us the longer he stayed. Papá would beat me for having any interactions with Spider-Man, and worse if he _didn't leave right now._

"I can't," he whispered, turning back to my papá who was staring at us in utter disbelief. Then his stupid, drunk-self turned and tried to make a run toward the door. Like a striking viper, Spider-Man lifted his arm and fired another web at him. Papá's outstretched hand was instantly entangled in another web and yanked from the door handle by a connected string Spidey held. He yelled in frustration, trying to tear his hand free of the sticky substance.

"Sorry sir, I can't let you leave," Spidey apologized, sounding fat from apologetic.

 _What the hell does that mean?_

"Why's the _fuck_ not!?" Papá roared, spittle flying from his mouth.

I tugged on Spidey's arm not very gently. "What the hell are you doing?" I hissed. Unless he planed to continue this ridiculous stand-off why would he have any reason to make papá stay here? Spidey removed his arm from my grasp and instead replaced it with his hand, which I took without a single thought or hesitation.

"Sir I need you to calm down," he advised calmly. "Please take a seat, and we can talk."

"There's _nothing_ to talk 'bout!" He yelled, rubbing his entangled hands together in a useless attempt to remove the webbing. "Get 'way from me!"

 _BANG BANG BANG_

My heart stopped for a moment before continuing it's rapid pulse as David's enraged voice came from the other side of the door.

 _"The hell's going on in there, Florez!?"_

"This fucker's in my apartment!" Papá shouted tugging desperately against the string of webbing Spidey still held in his secure grasp.

Spider-Man stiffened as the door flew open and almost nailed papá in the process. David stepped inside, taking in the scene before him slack-jawed. Papá—beaten and drunk as hell—had his hands coated in Spider-Man's webbing, who stood with one hand grasping the webbing and the other grasped firmly in my own while I all but cowered behind him with my brain an absolutely useless disaster.

"Sir–"

"What the _fuck!?_ " He demanded. "Get your asses the _hell_ out of my complex!"

"Sir–!" But David was having absolutely none of it.

 _"Now, goddamnit!"_

Papá's fiery gaze swivelled from Spider-Man to David in a nanosecond and the two were locked in the most intense staring contest I'd ever witnessed. Spidey and I watched in silent horror as the two men glared death wishes upon the other.

 _"You,"_ David seethed, "are a drunk-ass son of a bitch and a criminal."

"Fuck off!"

"I _know_ you steal to pay me and I _know_ you abuse the hell outa your girl!" He spat, jabbing a finger in my direction. "I'm callin' the police and they can deal with this fuckin' freak show. None of you fuckin' move," he ordered, pulling a phone from his jean pocket and dialling 911. We did as we were told and remained exactly where we stood, none of us wanting to risk the wrath of David.

"Yeah, I got an issue in my apartment complex," he said, casting an irritated glance at me and Spidey as he spoke to the dispatcher. "Fuckin Spider-Man's tryna take care of a drunk criminal and his abused daughter."

•••

"Kasandra?" I forced my tired eyes up and my lips to return the smile the social worker was giving me to the best of my abilities. The woman appeared to be oddly cheerful considering my absolute shit situation and the fact that she had to deal with me right then. The poor woman was doing her best to keep a real smile on her pretty, porcelain-skinned face.

"My name's Allyssa. How are you doing, Kasandra?" She asked, sitting down in the seat across from me.

"Fine... and just Kasey is fine," I said, shifting in the overly comfortable chair in some room within some police station I'd been taken to over an hour ago. The police had all but busted into the apartment, barely taking the time to question David or me or Spider-Man or _anyone_ before arresting papá. Then they spoke to what felt like everyone in the complex regarding me and papá before heading off to the police station with my belongings to figure out what the the hell was gonna happen to me. And that's right about when Spider-Man decided to run off to who-knows-where.

"Alrighty Kasey, can you tell me about your father?" She asked, setting her purse, pen and clipboard with it's accompanying mountain of papers down on the metal table between us.

"What do you want to know?" I was not in the mood sugar coating or any of that bullshit. I wanted to get to the point and figure this shit out so I could get a decent sleep for the first time ever and actually eat a decent meal.

"Whatever you're willing to tell me." I raised a brow at that and she just responded by forcing her smile to be even sweeter.

 _Does she think I'm some toddler?_ But Allyssa wasn't saying anything else so I just sighed and start talking.

"Well he's not much of a father," I muttered, looking down and fiddling with my hair. "He usually comes home late at night absolutely hammered. I don't know why, but he's angry all the time so he let's it out on me and then he passes out and doesn't wake up until after noon the next day," I shrugged. "I'm usually at school."

Allyssa's silence prompted me to look up. She was watching me in slight confusion, wanting to inquire about anything but not wanting to interrupt me.

"I had a stash of my own money that I hid and used to pay for administration," I explained. She nodded and quickly wrote something down in neat handwriting before looking back up and waiting expectantly for me to continue. But there was no way I was gonna make her istening to my entire, depressing life story. I couldn't handle any more pity and all I wanted was to leave that life far, far behind me. Talking about it any more than I had to was not going to help in the least.

"You can ask me whatever you need to know," I said, a tad more abrupt than necessary. "I'm fine with talking about it. Seriously." She must've heard this quite often from other kids because she recognized my tone and expression and knew arguing would do nothing. I was grateful for that.

"Alright. How long has this been going on for?"

"Forever. I don't remember anything else."

"What sort of abuse has he inflicted, Kasey?" I breathed in deeply through my nose.

"Verbal and mental, mostly. He'd yell at me a lot and tell me nobody cared, that I was stupid, that he hated me, stuff like that. Sometimes it was physical, but never... anything else." Allyssa nodded in understanding and continued her writing.

"Do you have any other family?"

I shook my head. "No. Not that I know of." She looked up at me in bewilderment and concern.

"Your mother?"

"Don't remember anything about her. Papá only ever said that he hated her and that she was stupid and stuff."

"No relatives?" She was beginning to sound as hopeless as I'd been feeling my whole life.

I shrugged again. "I dunno."

"...Friends?"

I actually laughed then, thinking of the boy who'd disappeared an hour or so earlier with a promise that he'd be back—a promise that I was beginning to regret believing. "Sort of, actually. But I'm not _entirely_ sure because I've never really considered anyone a friend until a few days ago."

She smiled sympathetically and nodded again. "Do you know if this friend and his or her guardians would be alright with taking you in?"

And I _felt_ my heart stop for a moment, and I kind of just stared at her in disbelief, with my mouth hanging open and my bulging eyes on the verge of tears yet again.

"You mean I don't have to go to foster care? Or juvie?" I whispered hoarsely.

And then it was _her_ turn to laugh. "No, Kasey. Those are only options for kids who have nowhere else to go. But... if your friend can't take you in then I'm afraid we'll have to find you a foster home." My expression fell again because I didn't even know who the hell my friend _was_. Or if he could even 'take me in'.

"Could I make a call really quick? I just want to ask him where he is and stuff." Allyssa nodded vigorously, reaching for her purse on the table.

"Of course." She took her phone out and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I took the device from her hands and stood from my seat but there really wasn't anywhere to go with just the two chairs and the table inside the drab, grey-walled, square room.

"You can step outside, Kasey," she offered, gesturing toward the door.

"Oh, okay. Thanks." Gratefully, I opened the door and stood just outside the room, making sure she could see me through the single window and kinda hear me but not really. The last thing I needed was Allyssa thinking I was some risky, troubled teenager who was gonna make a break for it the first chance I got.

The room I'd been sitting in for what felt like ever was situated just behind the front desk of the police station. Standing outside of it now allowed me to see the empty front room and the gradually darkening sky just outside the windows.

I sighed and began to punch in Spidey's numbers from memory.

It dialled, and it rang, rang, rang. I bit my lip and glanced up when the front door was pushed open, bringing with it the sound of someone's phone ringtone.

"Who's calling you?" The woman who'd just entered asked the teenage boy beside her. I squinted, realizing the brown-haired boy who accompanied the woman looked oddly familiar... the bright blue sweater he wore had Midtown high's pale yellow logo on it, so I immediately knew I'd seen him around school at some point. They strode closer and the boy looked down, taking his phone from his pocket and looking at the screen. He tapped it and brought it up to his ear. And in the same instance he spoke into it I heard in my ear:

"Hello?"

In my split focus, I hadn't realized the line had stopped ringing and a voice now sounded through it. I opened my mouth to answer Spidey but it was then that the boy looked up and met my gaze. And this time his face was in focus so I immediately knew I _did_ recognize him because I'd just seen him this morning at school and I'd been unknowingly hanging out with him for days. And I was so taken aback I didn't believe it but then I _did_ because the phone number Spidey had given me was so obviously linked to this boy's phone because I'd _heard_ that voice before, I _knew_ that voice. It was the voice of the friend who'd left an hour ago, promising that he'd be back. And he did keep his promise because _Peter Parker_ was Spider-Man.

"H-Hi," he said, grinning shyly and lowering the phone from his ear.

"Hi," I replied uncertainly, dropping the borrowed phone to my side. The woman beside Peter jumped into the conversation as well.

"Hi," she said, smiling at me. "You must be Kasey. Peter's told me a lot about you. I'm his aunt May but you can just call me May." I nodded and looked between Peter and his aunt, not knowing what to say or do. Peter caught my silent, confused plea and immediately dove in to save me.

"Uh, yeah, May could I just talk to Kasey real quick?" He asked, barely tearing his gaze from my own to look at his aunt. She shrugged helplessly.

"Yeah, I guess so. I'l just sit down right here." May took a seat in one of the chairs along the wall, trying her best not to look around in confusion too much.

"Thanks." He jogged up to me with an odd smile on his face.

"Peter?" I hissed. Because I couldn't quite comprehend yet that Spider-Man—the boy I'd been hanging out with the past few days and my first and only friend—was a boy I'd never even spoken to before now.

"Yeah." He smiled and added. "We were made lab partners today. A-and we're in the same history class." As if I had no clue who he was.

"I know, I just... I'm _really_ surprised," my gaze flicked behind him at his aunt May. She had her hands clasped in her lap and her long brown hair draped neatly over one shoulder, having no clue what to do. "What'd you tell her?"

"Just that we're really good friends. And you need someone to live with I guess, because you don't wanna go to a foster home, right?"

"No... does she know?"

"I told her about your dad but not about you..." he trailed off, searching for a better word but there wasn't one.

"Stealing," I deadpanned. He nodded and looked down, scuffing his sneakers across the floor.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"So, why are you here then?" I asked, trying not to let any anger show. His expression turned serious; his smile dropping to a frown.

"I-I thought you could come stay with us until something else is figured out. Y'know, only if you want. It'd be better than a foster home."

 _He lives with his aunt?_

"You guys are willing to do that?" I searched his face for any hesitation, anything at all. But he just nodded, another one of his nervous smiles slowly making it's way back onto his face.

"Yeah." Peter must've read the uncertainty in my features so he continued. "May doesn't wanna let you go to foster care either. Trust me Kasey, we'd _both_ love to have you around."

"...You're sure? I've been an inconvenience my whole life, I don't wanna keep being one." Peter shook his head and turned to address his aunt.

"Hey, May?" He called. She looked up at us and smiled, prompting him to continue "You're cool with Kasey staying with us?"

"Yeah of course! Kasey, you're more than welcome to stay with us."

"Are you sure?" I asked, wanting to accept more than anything but wanting to be sure. "I really don't want to inconvenience anybody."

"Inconvenience?" May repeated incredulously. She stood from her chair and began walking over to us. "That is not possible. I've been needing another girl to talk to for thirteen years now," she laughed, gesturing to Peter.

 _Huh, she must've basically raised him. Wonder what happened to his parents._ The door behind us opened suddenly, making me jump and turn around. Allyssa appeared, looking between the three of us in utter befuddlement.

"Kasey?" She asked, turning to me for an explanation. "Who's this?" She asked, glancing between Peter and his aunt.

"Uh, this is my friend Peter and his aunt May," I explained. Then remembered that I still had her phone. "Here," I said, holding it out to her. "Thanks for letting me use it, they just showed up right as I called."

"Oh, no worries. I just looked out the window and saw a bunch of people so I hurried out," she laughed, taking her phone from me with one hand and holding out the other to May. "Hi, I'm Allyssa."

"May," she replied, shaking her hand. "We're going to take in Kasey. If that's alright. I don't really know how all this works," she admitted sheepishly. Allyssa laughed again and waved away her concerns.

"That's alright, I can show you how everything goes. I have all the papers with me if you'd like to come discuss and sign everything?"

May nodded. "Yeah, that sounds great."

"Perfect," Allyssa smiled and turned to Peter and I. "It'll only take a few minutes , you two can just wait out here." I nodded, glancing over at Peter, who was mimicking my movements. May and Allyssa disappeared into the room and Peter went to sit in one of the chairs, but I was desperate for air and made a beeline to the front doors instead.

"I'm just gonna go outside for a few minutes, I've been trapped in here forever," I said, heading toward the doors.

"Oh, y-yeah, of course. I'll go with you," he agreed, standing up to follow me.

I laughed. "I'm not gonna run off, _Spider-Man._ " He grinned, hurrying in front of me to hold the door open.

"I know."

The night air was so cold and refreshing on my skin I wasn't sure I'd ever willingly go back indoors again. It was peaceful being out there— calming and familiar. It helped to finally get my mind of everything that'd transpired earlier today.

"I'm sorry," Peter said quietly. "I know I shouldn't have interfered after you told me not to, but I–"

"Peter," I cut him off gently because there was no need for him to be apologizing. He stopped and looked over at me with his mouth half open.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'm really grateful for what you did. It scared the hell out of me and I didn't know what to do or what would happen, but everything is all worked out now, so it's fine." I looked back out across the noisy city and it's cloudy grey skies.

"Thank you for doing all this for me. It really means a lot," I murmured.

"Yeah, of course. That's what friends are for."

 **AN: Sorry for not posting yesterday, I just had so much homework and by the time it was all done I was like half asleep, so to make up for the late update I made this chapter extra long!**

 **KASEY AND PETER FINALLY SPOKE TO EACHOTHER AHHHH SO CUTE.**

 **This story is definitely gonna follow the Spider-Man: Homecoming plot because I'm kinda uncreative lol, and Peter is still gonna have a little crush on Liz but not forever ;)**

 **Anyways, thanks so much for all the reviews! It's awesome to read through all of them! Keep them coming and thanks for being awesome!**

 **So I didn't like how this chapter turned out the first time so I went through it and fixed it** **haha. Also, I'm gonna turn my author's note at the beginning into an extended summary :)**


	13. Chapter 12

"So since when have you two…?"

"We've always known each other but we never really started talking until last week," Peter replied immediately, saving me from having to reply to his aunt's sudden question. Luckily, we'd planned for this earlier at the police station and had come up with a different backstory in case May asked any questions like these.

"Oh, do you you two have any classes together?" May asked.

"Yeah. Chemistry, history and gym."

"Yeah, we're lab partners now," I added from the backseat of the car, gazing out the window as we drove through the city to the Parker's apartment.

"You have a partner this year!? That's great!" May turned her head to glance back at me. "He's a genius, if you need help with anything, he's your guy."

I laughed and nodded. "Okay." Peter scrambled to say something, his face turning a slight shade of red.

"Uh, M-May, I don't think Kasey needs my help. She's actually really smart."

 _What!?_ "N-No, I really don't think–"

"Really? Are you on the Academic Decathlon team, Kasey?"

"No, I'm not like, a genius like Peter or anything–"

"Oh you don't have to be, trust me. There's one kid on that team that should _not_ be there," she laughed.

"Oh yeah you could replace Flash!" Peter agreed. "Or you could be the designated photographer when we go to nationals. Mr. Harrington mentioned the yearbook committee wanting pictures of the trip this year." He sounded so hopeful, I didn't want to say no. But I _really_ wasn't good at socializing.

"I dunno, I've never done anything like that before…" I murmured, looking down at my hands uncertainly. I mean, it would be fun to do something like that, especially with Peter. But competing in a _national_ competition in front of a bunch of people? Hell no. Even if I was that smart, I didn't have the courage to do something like that.

"Oh, y-yeah, no worries. Don't worry about it. Just consider it." I nodded.

"So Kasey, what other classes do you have this semester?" May asked, doing an excellent job of keeping an awkward silence from settling. I was beginning to really like her already.

"Spanish, home ec and math."

"Oh I remember taking home ec, I loved it! Do you guys still learn to sew?" May was excited at the mention of home economics, but I couldn't imagine how anyone could actually enjoy that boring class. The only reason I'd gone in it was because I knew we'd be cooking at some point, and I'd take any chance I could to get free food.

"Yeah, but we're doing it near the end of the semester. For now we're in the kitchen."

"That had to be my favourite class," she said, shaking her head at the memories. "Gosh I miss high school."

 _I sure as hell wouldn't._

"Wait, you're Spanish, right?" Peter asked quite suddenly.

"Yeah, why?"

"Then you know Spanish?" He inquired further, causing my confusion to grow.

"Yeah, why?"

"Why are you in Spanish if you know it already?"

"Free marks," I shrugged and laughed.

"That _is_ smart," May agreed, her tone one of amusement.

"They let you take Spanish even though you already know it?" Peter just couldn't get over this.

"They never asked so I never told them. They have no idea. I just have to make enough mistakes to make it seem legit and still get an awesome grade," I explained, still grinning. Okay, saying it out loud made the whole thing seem a bit crazy and made me seem a bit like a cheater, but I thought it was pretty genius of me and pretty stupid of them to let a full-blood Spaniard into a high school Spanish course without any questions or hesitation. Though May _had_ commented on my ingenuity, so I felt solace in knowing that her thoughts were similar to my own. And Peter was just sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the front windshield in silence.

"Kasey that is _so_ sneaky," he chuckled, shaking his head when he at last spoke. I grinned and caught his reflection in the car's side mirror. I met his gaze, grinning even wider.

"Is Spanish your first language?" May asked. I looked away and frowned in thought, not entirely sure what the answer to that was.

"…I think so. My papá would always speak Spanish, but I'm not really sure because I don't remember learning English either. I think I must've grown up learning both." I noticed May open her mouth to say something, but she stopped and pursed her lips while considering the best way to word her response.

"Kasey, do you…" she trailed off for a moment as if uncertain to continue. " _Know_ anything about your past?" I bit my lip and looked down at my hands uncomfortably. My past was one of my least favourite topics. I knew so little about it, and in a way I was grateful for that because I have a feeling it wasn't very sunshine and lollipops. Thankfully, Peter hadn't asked me about it while we'd been hanging out the past few days. But I knew it was bound to be brought up at some point. And that point was now.

Peter caught my distress instantaneously and began to protest against his aunt's query. "Kasey, you don't–"

"No, you guys are doing so much for me, it's the least I can do," _I just don't like talking about it because—like every other aspect of my life—it's really quite pathetic._ I took a deep breath, steeling myself before continuing. "Honestly, I don't remember much, and I don't really know why. I gathered from papá's ranting over the past years that we used to live somewhere in Spain. Him and my mamá had a forced marriage, I'm pretty sure, and I was a total accident. I think as soon as I was born we moved here. I have no idea _how_ or _why_ or what happened to my mamá, but I assume that she must've left pretty early if I can't remember anything about her. I dunno why papá raised me, either, but he did and we've been living in New York for as long as I can remember." They were silent for a good few minutes and I was glad I couldn't see their faces or the pity on them. I was _so_ done with pity.

And I was so caught up in my own, empty mind that I didn't notice the car had stopped.

"Peter, can you go inside and put together something for Kasey?" May asked. "I just want to talk with her a little, we'll be right up." He nodded and turned in his seat to look at me.

"I can take your stuff up for you," he offered, but I shook my head after a moment of contemplation.

"I got it. Thanks, though." He gave me a smile that was supposed to be reassuring, but it did little to help and I couldn't quite find it in myself to return it. Peter ducked out of the car, and it was just me and his aunt. May watched Peter leave with a content smile and a pleasant glint in her eyes.

"He's a good kid," she said quietly, her voice voice filled with affection.

I nodded and murmured my agreement. "Yeah."

May smiled and patted the passenger seat. "Come on up here." Slightly apprehensive, I climbed out of the back seat and into the front. I shifted a but uncomfortably in the still-warm seat before turning to face May. And then we spoke at once.

"I'm–"

"You're–"

We both stopped.

May laughed. "You go."

I smiled abashedly and felt my face warm a little, but forced myself to meet her kind, brown eyes and continue. "I'm really grateful for everything you're doing for me. Peter is the first person I've met who's cared and wanted to help me, and if I'm being honest I really wasn't very nice to him at first, and I really regret that, but he stuck around because he's stubborn," May nodded at that and I laughed. "…I never _had_ friends before, because I'm…" I sighed, frustrated that saying this was turning out to be so difficult. "I'm _not_ a good person. I tried telling him that a bunch of times, but he won't listen to me," I really looked at May, then. Because she needed to know how serious I was being, and that I wasn't just playing the 'poor me' card. "You guys are really good people. But I've been stealing since I was five years old and lying to people and there's probably six guys out there that want to kill papá because he's…not good either. I just don't want to be a burden for anyone because honestly, I'm a burden for _myself_ ," I shrugged helplessly. "I want to stay with you guys because you're awesome and so nice, and Peter is my first friend ever, and it'd really suck to lose that friendship. If you're seriously okay to have me around then I'll do everything I can to fix myself, I swear. I'll find a job somewhere, I'll help around the house. I'm not the greatest at cooking, but I'm a fast learner. I also know a bit about first aid and medical stuff…But I'm fine with leaving too. I have all my stuff right here, I can–"

"Kasey, no," May shook her head and cut me off before I could go any further down that road. "I'm perfectly alright with you staying with us. Peter has a hard time putting himself out there and making friends, so the fact that he started talking to you is great," she smiled, her eyes shining and reminding me a lot of Peter. "You know when he called me today, he sounded so scared I was worried about him. That in itself tells me that you're someone to him," she inhaled a large breath, her eyes turning watery. "Peter has gone through a lot, just like you have. It's not my place to tell you everything, so you'll have to ask him about it. But I'd really like you to stay with us, Kasey. If you'd like."

I bit my lip and nodded. "I really would."

May smiled brightly. "We do have rules though, I'm not gonna go easy on you," she warned teasingly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"Alright," she placed her hand on my shoulder comfortingly for a fleeting second. "And if you need someone, I'm always available to talk. Okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Thanks."

"Alright," she removed the keys from the ignition and slipped them into her coat pocket. "Let's head up."

 **AN: Whew, that was a** ** _lot_** **of dialogue. I'm not used to writing Aunt May, so I'm not sure if I'm portraying her very well or not, but oh well XD**

 **Anyways, I finished the extended summary at the start of TUG if anyone wants to check it out. It features a cast, it's kinda extra but I had fun making it lol. I'm super excited to write more between Kasey and Peter and I'm gonna try my hardest to make the plot as different from Homecoming as I can, but I'm not super creative so I may not be successful. Anyways, would you guys like to see more of Liz or Michelle in this story?**


	14. Chapter 13

"And this is my room." Peter swung the door before him open and walked inside the petite, square room. There was a bunk bed sitting against the back wall, with a window peeking out partly from behind it and a cluttered, L-shaped desk pushed to the right wall. An equally cluttered shelf sat on the wall above the desk and amidst a small collection of posters. Grasping the duffel bag containing my belongings from home, I took a few steps inside and glanced around the hastily cleaned room, noticing a few Lego structures and figurines from Star Wars with a grin.

"Star Wars fan?"

"Uh, y-yeah, maybe a little," he admitted sheepishly. "You too?"

I shrugged. "Never seen it."

Peter's eyes widened. "What?" He breathed. "We have to watch it!"

"Okay," I laughed, walking further into his room to get a better look and sate my curiosity. Against the wall beside the door, there was a cupboard full off books and with CDs and miscellaneous items stacked on top of it. A map of New York was pinned up beside it, with a series of coat hangers nailed to the wall below the poster.

"You could sleep in either of the bunks in here if you want, or in the living room," Peter offered, standing quite awkwardly in the middle of his room and with his hands shoved in his jean pockets. I nodded and mulled over my limited options.

"I think I'll sleep out there," I said, tilting my head toward the door. I _really_ needed some time to myself—to try to take everything in and to calm the hell down because my brain was honestly in overdrive right then. Peter glanced down at his feet and nodded. Picking up on his dejected spirit, I quickly elaborated. "Just for tonight though. I just need need some time to..." If there was a word for what I was trying to explain, my brain couldn't think of it. But it wasn't a problem; Peter understood.

He nodded. "Yeah."

I smiled and adjusted my grip on my bag while continuing to look around in wonder. There was just so much _stuff._

"What are you _doing?_ " I asked, setting my bag down and walking up to his desk where a partly dismembered computer monitor sat. He spun around, following my eyes.

"Oh," he chuckled. "I take stuff apart and make stuff from it."

 _Really?_ "Like what?"

He shrugged. "My old web-shooters, that police scanner I had earlier, stuff like that."

"What're you trying to make out of this?" It looked like he was in the middle of soddering wires to a circuit board-like thing.

Peter narrowed his eyes. "Uh..." He leaned forward, inspecting the partly-completed device closer. "...I'm not really sure," he confessed, sitting down in the chair at the desk. "It's been a while since I've worked on it." My eyes dropped down to the chess board sitting on the table as well, analyzing the current status of the game.

"White is kicking ass," I laughed, taking note of how cornered the black pieces were with their very limited possible moves that wouldn't result in being captured by a white piece.

Peter laughed with me. "Yeah, that's May. I don't think I've ever won a game between me and her before." He looked up at me, oddly excited. "You know how to play chess?"

"Sort of," I shrugged. "I know the rules, but I've never played before."

"Do not play against May, she'll crush your spirit," he warned, sounding quite serious. "This game has been sitting here for a _month_ , I don't wanna keeping playing because I know she'll beat me again." He shook his head, staring at the chess board hopelessly and making me laugh.

"Poor loser, huh?" I teased.

"You have _no_ _idea._ " In unison, Peter and I looked toward the doorway in surprise, finding May standing there with her hands on her hips. Peter immediately jumped to defend himself.

"You're a ruthless chess player!"

May pressed a hand to her chest in mock hurt, her gaze moving from him to me. "I'm really not that bad."

Peter scoffed. "Yes she is!"

May ignored him with a smile. "Do you know how to play, Kasey?"

I nodded. "Just the rules," I said. "I've never actually played though."

"Well I wouldn't play against Peter," she advised with a laugh. Then narrowed her eyes at the chess board and strode into his room to scrutinize the game. "Did you move my queen?" She asked in disbelief. I looked up at Peter, a grin creeping onto my face. He was staring blankly at May with slightly parted lips as if he had forgotten intentions to speak. May raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"No," he croaked at last. It was a poor attempt at a lie, and his expression said he knew it, too. May lifted a finger at him.

"You did!" She exclaimed. Peter's grin broke through his poor guise in an instant. "I'm not playing with you anymore," she announced, turning to leave only to spin back around and continue. "You've been cheating for years, haven't you?" Peter maintained his silent stare with smiling lips, shrugging his shoulders almost imperceptibly in answer.

"I can't believe you!" She cried, reaching for her queen and placing it in a different space on the chess board. "Checkmate," she announced. "And that's the last time I every play against you, you little cheater." I bit my lip to keep from laughing as Peter stared down at the board before him in shock. May's hand drifted over my shoulder and I looked up at her.

"If you're hungry I made some grilled cheese and tomato soup," she offered, smiling warmly. The mention of food instantly made me hyper aware of just how empty my stomach was. I was quick to agree.

"Yeah, that sounds awesome."

She smiled and looked behind me at Peter. "We'll just leave him to deal with that," she said, turning and walking out of his room. I picked up my duffel bag and glanced back at Peter before following May. He looked up at the same time, catching my gaze and shaking his head with a defeated sigh before coming around from behind the desk and following me out into the kitchen.

•••

I couldn't remember the last time my stomach didn't feel like it was going to cave in on itself. I forgot what it felt like to be able to eat a proper amount of real food for dinner. It was weird, to say the least. Sitting down at the Parker's' kitchen table and eating as much as I pleased while laughing and sharing strange jokes was something new to me entriely. The welcoming air, the cheerful apartment, everything was so different. You'd think that here, I'd have no worries at all; I shouldn't have. And yet I did.

Because I felt as if I'd just been torn from the pages of a horror story and forecully pasted into a book with pure-hearted characters and a happy ending that I really _didn't_ deserve. I didn't deserve to have this life after everything I'd done, and I sure as hell didn't deserve Peter. What compelled him want to save me? Of all the people in Queens, why the unsaveable girl? Why me?…Honestly, I was nothing more than a lost cause.

Because even then, far away from papá and even further from my old life—living with people who truly cared about me—I still fell asleep with tears in my eyes and feeling more lost than ever.

 **AN: Sorry for another fairly late update and short chapter! But I do have good reason for it! I started watching Stranger Things, and if y'all have watched it too then you know what I mean when I say that I COULD NOT STOP! I'm only on the first episodes of season but hot damn, I can already see why everyone loves it so much. So yeah, I got a little caught up lol.**

 **Anyways, please leave me some reviews! Love you guys :)**


	15. Chapter 14

A sudden, light knock on the bathroom door made me jump. Then Peter's voice filtered through.

"Kasey?" He called hesitantly. Pausing in braiding my slightly damp hair, I quickly reached out with one hand to open the door in answer. Peter met my gaze in surprise, his hair mussed and sticking out at weird angles. He noticed my focus on it and raised a hand to fix the mess with an embarrassed smile.

"H-how long have you, uh…been up?" He asked, running his fingers through his hair even though it really did nothing to calm his surprisingly curly bedhead. I thought of lying, but he would've been able to see right through it anyway, so I sighed and told him the truth.

"Three hours," I admitted quietly, turning back to the mirror and continuing to braid my hair. He was silent for a moment while he yawned.

"Since five?" His voice was still somewhat raspy from sleeping. I nodded and tied my hair off with an elastic. I didn't meet his gaze as I began gathering my stuff from the countertop.

"Kase?" Peter asked, rubbing drowsiness from his eyes and successfully putting my actions to an immediate halt. "Are you okay?" With our reflections' gazes locked in the mirror, I nodded again; though I really shouldn't have.

"It's just a lot," I admitted quietly, making a conscious effort to reveal as little as possible and quit sounding so goddamn whiny.

"You know you can talk to me," Peter offered as casually as he could manage. "I-If you want…I'm good at listening," he nodded, then added, "and talking," he shrugged. "Either one." He was seeing right through my silence—he knew I wasn't okay and yet he wasn't pressing. I nodded some more, biting my lip and glancing away from his soft brown eyes.

"I just got annoyed that I couldn't sleep," I explained, gathering my things up into my arms, "so I figured it'd be better to do something productive," I said, turning to face him. Peter pushed strands of unruly hair from his forehead and nodded.

"Y–yeah, I get that. I just– you know, I wanna make sure that you know you can talk to me or May." Peter smiled crookedly and I felt my chest warm.

"Yeah, I know," I returned the smile. "Thanks," I added softly. Peter pressed his lips together and nodded absently. For a few moments we stood somewhat awkwardly in silence, neither of us entirely sure what to say or do.

"I'm just gonna shower really quick," he said.

 _Right._ With all my stuff balanced in my arms, I hurried out of the small bathroom so he could get ready.

"Hey, Kase?"

There it was again. _Kase._

As if someone had pressed a pause button, I immediately stopped in my tracks. Then turned back around to face Peter. "Yeah?"

"If you, uh, wanna wear a different shirt or something you could go into my closet and grab something," he offered. Wow. I knew he was bound to notice at some point that I wear the same three shirts over and over again, but I didn't think he'd notice that soon.

"I'm okay, I–"

"No, really, go find something," he insisted, bracing one hand against the bathroom doorframe. "You've been wearing the same thing for a few days, I–I can ask May to wash it for you while we're at school." Embarassed, I looked down at myself. I _had_ been wearing the same outfit the past three days, and I didn't exactly feel clean at the moment despite the fact that I just showered.

"Okay," I looked up and met his gaze gratefully. "Thank you." Peter smiled and nodded once more before swinging the bathroom door shut.

I returned to my temporary bed on one of the couches in the living room and dumped all the stuff I held into my bag. I'd already folded the blanket I'd used and fluffed the cushions I'd laid on earlier, tidying the area as much as I could. My sketch book sat on the coffee table with my pencil on top, still there from when I'd woken in the dead of night and couldn't fall back asleep. I tucked that into my bag as well, then headed to Peter's room.

It was weird enough standing in his room without him there, and even _weirder_ going through his closet. He had a lot of sweaters and flannels, which was right down my alley. I grabbed an incredibly soft, light-blue long sleeve, which looked like it would probably be too small on Peter anyway. The moment I put it on I knew I'd end up stealing it from him again at some point.

I folded my old t-shirt up and tossed it on top of my bag, then plopped down onto the couch tiredly. I really, _really_ didn't understand how I could be so tired and yet _not be able to sleep_. It just didn't make any sense.

Sighing in frustration, I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the cushions, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep leaving for school.

•••

"Who're ya texting?" I asked, trying my best to discreetly peek at Peter's phone screen before he shut it off and placed it back in his jacket pocket.

"Oh, uh, just checking in with Mr. Stark," he explained quietly, though I don't know why he bothered to be quiet about it. Nobody on public transit really cared about what went on around them.

"Seems kinda one-sided," I noted in amusement, recalling that the only messages in the conversation were sent by Peter.

"Well I, uh, don't really talk _to_ him, I talk to his assistant," he admitted, then added quickly. "They're both pretty busy."

I nodded and braced myself as the train came to an abrupt halt. Peter was quick his feet and had disappeared out the doors before anyone else could even consider getting to their feet. I, however, got caught up in the usual, irritating rush to simultaneously exit and enter the train. When I'd at last freed myself from it, I found Peter sheepishly waiting for me.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm so used to rushing off before everyone else."

"It's fine, just give me a warning next time," I laughed. "I thought you were the Flash for a second there." Peter grinned and shook his head as we walked.

"Nah, I just don't like getting caught up in all those people."

"Yeah, me neither," I agreed, trying not to recall the nauseating feeling of being squished in the centre of so many _other bodies_. "Next time just drag me after you," I suggested as we crossed Midtown's football field. There were a few boys tossing footballs and rugby balls among themselves, and I made a conscious effort to keep an eyes on those balls, ensuring I wouldn't get nailed in the face by one of them. Though I'm sure Peter would be able to catch it with his Spidey Senses.

"Where's your locker?" He asked.

"Uh, like, at the end of the hallway Mrs. Warren's class is in. Where's yours?"

"In the main hallway on the second floor," he scratched the back of his neck. "There's, uh, actually a free locker a few down from mine…If you wanna use it," he glanced over at me as we approached the street in front of Midtown.

"Yeah, that's a way better spot. I'll grab my stuff and meet you there," I agreed, searching for a break in the cars driving down the road.

"No, I'll go with you." I spun around, finding Peter grinning at me.

"Okay," I laughed.

A sudden, loud car horn made me jump and whirl to find the source.

"Penis Parker's got a _girl!_ "

I blew out an annoyed breath and rolled my eyes at Thompson, who grinned mischievously at us while rolling by in his pristine, silver car.

 _Well he's definitely gonna be an issue from now on._

 **AN: Honestly, I should really be studying instead of writing but bio is so complex I just wanna give up lmao. Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this short chapter with that cute 'lil awko-taco scene between Kasey and Peter!**

 **Love you all! Please leave me some more of your wonderful reviews! :D**


	16. Chapter 15

"Sorry about Flash," Peter apologized. "He's..."

"An ass, I know," I stopped at my locker and quickly entered the combination. "He's just like that because you're smarter than him and he's a poor loser." I swung the door open and extracted a binder.

"What? No. I-I really don't think he'd– oh, here, I can help." Peter stopped mid-sentence to take the trio of textbooks I was attempting to balance atop my binders.

"Thanks." With my locker now emptied, I swung it shut and turned to head back down the hallway with Peter. "And yes, he totally would bully you because you're smarter than him. And he's popular so he 'needs to be the best at everything' so when he's not, he terrorizes people to make him feel better about himself," I glanced over at him, but Peter still seemed confused.

"That...doesn't many any sense," he muttered, meeting my gaze with his brown eyes narrowed from straining to understand the concept.

 _Seriously?_ I lifted an unimpressed brow at him.

"Seriously, Peter?"

"What?" I couldn't believe how hopelessly clueless he was. I breathed a loud, exasperated sigh.

"You're probably the smartest person at Midtown and yet you can't grasp this concept." Peter's face flushed and he was caught between the urge to defend himself and the urge to remain quietly embarrassed. I watched his battling facial expressions, biting my lip against my amused smile.

"Hey, Pete-!" I jumped in surprise, tearing my gaze from him and whirling to pinpoint whoever had addressed Peter. A short, round, Filipino boy with a mop of dark hair was approaching us, his eyes glued on me and his huge grin fading in confusion.

"Shit," Peter muttered. "H-hey, Ned." He greeted, waking faster toward him. "Uh, this is Kasey," he looked back at me and I hurried after him, not entirely sure what he planned on telling this guy. "She's my, uh, new lab partner. We're just moving her stuff to the spare locker near ours."

"Oh," he grinned and nodded, "cool." He fell into step beside us and we continued down the hallway toward the stairs. A moment later, Ned looked across at me and smiled. "I'm Ned, by the way."

Something about that goofy kid made me smile in return. "Kasey," I said. He nodded and turned his attention to Peter, speaking to him in a low voice I couldn't quite hear. I caught him recoiling slightly in surprise from his friend, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Dude, what?" He hissed, eyes shooting back to me for a nanosecond. "No!" I watched them closely, unable to hide my obvious desperation to hear their conversation. Though I had to take my eyes off the two boys as we descended the stairs so I wouldn't fall on my face or drop my tower of binders and notebooks.

"Y-yeah. I mean–n-no, I...I guess so, I dunno." Peter's usual stuttering made me smile to myself as I followed them between and around clumps of kids until they stopped at a section of lockers along the wall.

"Cool!" Ned said excitedly. "Welcome to the fellowship."

It took a moment for me to realize he was addressing me.

"What?" I asked, turning to look at him in puzzlement.

"The fellowship," he repeated. "You're the third brother."

Peter tilted his head back and made an annoyed noise, something between a sigh and a groan. I still wasn't comprehending a single thing Ned was saying.

"Oh," he chuckled sheepishly. "I mean sister. You're the third member."

 _What?_ "Huh?"

"...of the fellowship." Ned repeated yet again, as if I was supposed to know what he meant. When I showed no signs of comprehending, Ned sucked in a huge breath. "You've never seen the Lord of the Rings?" My brow creased in unfamiliarity, answering his query immediately. Ned clutched at his chest and stumbled back into the wall of lockers as if he were experiencing a heart attack. My eyes searched for Peter, desperate for his help. But he had the entirety of his attention fixed on unlocking the locker in front of him, his face a bright shade of red. I quickly darted past Ned so I was beside him.

"What's Lord of the Rings?" I hissed.

"Uh, j-just movie," he replied, glancing over at his friend, who was still staring into space with a shocked expression. "I-It's one of Ned's favourites." The locker door swung open, blocking Ned's view from us. "What do you want me to tell him?" He asked in a whisper.

I shrugged helplessly. "Doesn't matter to me. If you don't want him to know I'm staying with you guys–"

"What are you guys gossiping about?" Ned asked, coming around to join us with his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Uh, n-nothing," Peter winced silently at his poor lie, and I jumped in with the first thing I could think of.

"Just the lab we're supposed to hand in today."

Ned nodded and met Peter's gaze with a strange glint in his eyes. "Ohhh, _chemistry._ " I glanced between the boys, thoroughly annoyed.

"What the hell am I missing here?" I asked. Neither of them appeared innocent, and I realized almost immediately what they'd been talking about earlier: _me._ I looked to Peter for an explanation, but he'd diverted his attention to piling my textbooks into my new locker.

 _Fucking boys._ I sighed, rolling my eyes and waiting for him to finish. Once he did, I began throwing the remainder of my stuff inside.

"So since you've never seen Lord of the Rings, we should probably have a marathon this weekend," Ned decided.

"A marathon?" I repeated. "How many Lord of the Rings are there?"

"Three, not including the Hobbit," Ned replied cheerfully. I turned my stare to Peter, hoping he'd be at least a _little_ helpful this time. Panic flared in his cocoa-brown eyes and he began stumbling over a response.

"Uh, I-I can't. I have the Stark Internship."

"And I have to find a job," I added, tossing my jacket into the top shelf of my locker.

Peter grimaced. "Sorry, Ned."

"Eh, no worries," he shrugged. "I should probably study for our physics exam anyways."

"You guys already have a unit exam?" I asked, swinging my locker door shut and turning to face the two.

Peter nodded. "Next Tuesday."

"Mrs. Warren's _crazy_ ," Ned hissed. "I'm gonna have to spend all day Sunday and Monday studying." Suddenly, his almond eyes narrowed at me. I froze and tracked his gaze to the shirt I wore, which wasn't exactly _mine._

"Isn't that your sweater?" He asked, addressing his friend. My gaze shot to Peter in the same instance he looked to me. Our alarmed gazes locked for a moment before retuning to Ned.

"Yes."

"No."

 **AN: Ugh, sorry for another short chapter, I had a busy week. But hey, I finally introduced Ned! I was really nervous writing him and I'm not really sure if I portrayed his character well, so please leave a review and let me know how y'all liked it :)**

 **And I know I totally messed up Peter and Ned's school schedule, I wasn't doing my research very well in the early stages of planning TUG lol. I'm just gonna leave it how it is though cuz I don't really want to go through and change everything haha, I apologize for the inaccuracy.**

 **Also, if you guys are enjoying TUG and are fans of my writing, I recommend checking out my TMNT fic** ** _The Shadow's Secret._** **It's another romance because I'm a sucker for corny love stories lmao. But seriously, I've put over two years of work into it so it'd be awesome if you guys would check it out! :D (The mc is kinda like Kasey and a total sarcastic badass so I highly recommend reading it)**


	17. Chapter 16

"Señor, ¿puedo ir al baño?" I called, ensuring my words didn't flow and my tongue didn't form quite the right sounds.

Señor Manzano glanced up from his computer, which he was probably Facebook surfing on. "Sí, Señorita Kasey."

I shot him a friendly smile and grabbed my bag as I stood from my desk. "Gracias."

Class had only just started, but Señor Manzano liked me so he was cool with letting me have a break this early. While grabbing the hall pass off his desk I snuck a peak at his computer screen, which was indeed open to a Facebook page. I checked the time as I left the classroom and sped off down the hallway.

Peter was already waiting for me outside the bathrooms, pacing and swinging his own hall pass absently. Immediately, his head shot up to look at me and his lips tugged upward in a shy smile.

"Hey," he said, his pacing coming to a stop as I approached.

I smiled. "Hey. How long you been waiting?"

"Not long," he shrugged. "Few minutes, maybe. So uh, what do you want me to tell Ned?" I grimaced, biting my lip anxiously as I scanned the hallway for any listening ears. Thankfully, it was deserted.

"Can he keep a secret?" I asked doubtfully. Ned Leeds may have been a genius like Peter, but his overexcited personality led me to believe he probably wasn't very capable of keeping things on the down-low; even if it was something important.

"I-I'm not really sure," he admitted, probably having the same thoughts. "But I-I was thinking, maybe we could tell him your parents are gone for uh, a work thing or something."

"Sure. Like a relocation to someplace."

"Yeah!" Peter pulled his phone out and moved to stand beside me so I could watch as he searched for possible jobs we could use in the cover-up story. After a few minutes of unsuccessful searching, an idea bubbled up.

"What about an offshore oil rig?" I offered. Peter's typing fingers paused for a moment, then he switched his search to oil rigs off the coast of Spain. I watched as the page refreshed and new search results came up. He quickly scrolled through them until an old article popped up. He scanned the first few paragraphs.

"Southwestern Spain," he said, looking over at me for my opinion.

"Sure," I nodded my agreement. "That's perfect."

"Okay, so your dad goes to this oil rig and your mom…?"

"Is dead," I finished. Peter looked up at me sharply, his brown eyes full of concern.

"Kasey–"

I shook my head. "It's just a fake story, it's fine." But he just kept worriedly watching me. "Seriously," I insisted, my tone firm. Peter's eyes lingered for another moment before looking away with a dazed sort of expression.

 _Is_ he _okay?_ I opened my mouth to inquire, but he started talking before I could.

"The only problem is how we know each other," he mused. I fiddled with my hall pass and chewed on the inside of my lip.

"I guess we could just say we ran into each other one day after school and we started talking, then we became lab partners…" I trailed off uncertainly, looking to Peter for confirmation.

"Uh, y-yeah. That's what we told May." He nodded thoughtfully. "That should work for a while, I think."

I nodded slowly, looking down as I scuffed my foot across the floor. "Cool."

"Uh, w-we should really be getting back to class," Peter said, taking a small step back. I groaned at the thought of having to sit through another dull Spanish class. He grinned, a small laugh escaping as he spun to head back to his own class.

•••

"What is this?" Ned asked, peering suspiciously at the cookies I'd just made in Home Ec. Peter shot him a look of disbelief.

"Cookies," I said drily.

"Yeah I know _that,_ " he said. "But what's _in_ them?"

"Poison," I said as seriously as I could manage. Ned looked over at me with narrowed eyes.

"What kind?"

"Zucchini." He made gagging noises and I grinned as I picked one up. "They're actually really good," I said, taking a bite from it.

"I've never tried zucchini in cookies before," he admitted.

"Try one," I slid the paper plate over to him. His eyes brightened and he immediately snatched one off the plate.

"Thanks!"

I grinned and watched as he took a significant bite of it. He nodded appreciatively, hi eyes widening.

"The chocolate neutralizes the zucchini," Ned mumbled past the cookie in his mouth, causing a few crumbs to fly. I laughed and turned back to Peter to offer him one too, but he looked as if he was in his own world—staring at something across the cafeteria. I followed his gaze, trying to pinpoint what it was but there was too much going on.

"What're you staring at?" I asked. Peter blinked and was instantly looking down at me.

"Uh, n-nothing…s-sorry." He looked away and I noticed his ears turning a shade of red. I glanced at Ned, who had a knowing smile his face.

"Ohhh," he mused mischievously. "He was looking at Liz."

My eyebrows drew together in confusion. _Liz?_

"Who's Liz?" I asked.

"No one!" Peter interjected suddenly, shooting Ned a warning look that did absolutely _nothing_ to deter his friend.

"Oh, she's this senior that Peter's obsessed with," he continued nonchalantly, ignoring Peter completely.

" _Ohhhhhh,_ "I raised a brow at Peter. "A senior, huh?" His face reddened even further and his mouth opened desperately but no words came out. Ned laughed evilly and took another bite of his cookie.

"She's the captain of the Decathlon team." Ned stopped chewing suddenly, and stared at me with wide eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"You should join the team!"

 _"What?"_

"Yeah!" He spewed cookie chunks everywhere but was too excited to even notice. "We're going to D.C. soon for the championship, it's gonna be so cool!" He looked past me to his friend. "Right, Peter?"

"Uh, y-yeah," he said. "But, I- uh, you don't have to." Ned shot him a look that said _'dude, not helping.'_ Then focused back on me and attempted again to convince me.

"Ned, I don't think I'm smart enough to do that" I argued.

He snorted. "If Flash and Charles can make the team, I think you can. Besides, Mr. Harrington wants a photographer for the tournament this year. You can take pictures of me and Peter for the front page of the yearbook!"

 _I guess that wouldn't be so bad._ I bit my lip, unable to believe I was actually considering this.

"I dunno Ned, I'll think about it."

"You nerds find another addition to the team?" As one, we all spun to the new voice.

Michelle Jones sat at the table beside ours, an open book beside her lunch tray. She nodded to me and offered a strange, sly smile.

"Welcome to the team, loser."

 **AN: You guys I have so much homework I should be doing rn lmao oops.**

 **So Kasey's basically on the decathlon team! Yay!**

 **YO.**

 **HAS ANYONE ELSE SEEN THE INFINITY WAR TRAILER!?**

 **I'VE WATCHED IT LIKE EIGHTY TIMES.**

 **I got carried away and I legit watched so many trailers that day lol there's just so many movies to be excited about! Like Pacific Rim 2, The Last Jedi, Black Panther, INFINITY WAR, The Incredibles 2 ugh there's so many I'm so excited XD**

 **…Just out of curiosity, does anyone like Assassin's Creed? I kinda want to write an AC fic.**

 **Anywho, thanks so much for you guys' support and please leave me some more awesome reviews!**


	18. Chapter 17

"Just come with us to the meeting after school," Ned offered hopefully as we left the cafeteria to head to our lockers. I bit the inside of my lip and glanced at him.

"I'll think about it," I said, not wanting to disappoint him just yet. Ned's smile brightened and he waved goodbye to us before walking off in a different direction to his locker.

"You know you don't have to," Peter said.

I shrugged. "I know. I think I wanna consider it though."

"Really?" Peter breathed, his excitement plain as day despite his attempts to suppress it.

"Yeah. But not actually joining. I seriously don't think I'm smart enough for that," I laughed and shrugged. "But maybe I'll do the photography thing you and Ned mentioned. Going to D.C. would be fun."

He nodded enthusiastically. "That would be really cool."

I smiled shyly under his intense gaze and quickly threw in the combination to my locker.

"So, uh, where's your math class?" Peter asked, glancing over at me from his own locker.

"Uh," I piled all my required books into my arms. "It's down the hallway with student services in it. The…second class on the left." I swung my locker door shut a little unsteadily with my foot, then turned to face him.

"Okay," he closed his locker. "I-I'll meet you there after class, so we can go to chemistry," he offered, a hopeful smile lighting up his face.

"Sure," I smiled back, shifting my books in my arms. Peter just seemed to notice and immediately used forward to take them from my grasp.

"Oh, thanks," I laughed. "Do you not bring anything to class? I never see you carrying anything."

"I-I use my backpack," Peter said, shrugging his shoulders.

 _"Hey!"_ We spun, our gazes moving to Flash Thompson as he strode down the hallway toward us. "Penis Parker's gettin' it!" Flash's eyes roamed over me and sent a suggestive smirk my way as he passed by.

 _What an ass!_ I resisted the urge to send him a quite vulgar gesture in return, and instead spun back to Peter, who was glaring after Flash.

"Bell's gonna ring soon," I said, dragging his attention from the bully. "I should go to class."

"Uh, y-yeah. I can walk you there…if you want." I nodded, feeling my body warm as the friendly, awkward smile I knew and loved returned to his soft face.

"Sure."

We walked in relative silence the whole time, and I'm positive he was still pondering the whole Flash issue that was sure to only grow from here.

"Hey, Kase?"

 _Kase._ My heart fluttered.

I stopped before heading into my math classroom, rotating on my heel to face Peter again. "I-I'm really sorry about Flash," he started. "If you want to stop hanging around me and Ned at school, I–"

"Pete." I couldn't help the grin that overtook my face when he fell immediately silent and stared at me with wide brown eyes and his mouth parted slightly in forgotten, mid-sentence. Honestly, I was relieved that calling him Pete affected him in the same manner that him calling me Kase affected me. "I really don't care what everyone thinks of me. Especially Flash," I shrugged. "He's a bully and he knows it, and that's enough for me. But if _you_ have an issue with me–"

"No! No, of course not," Peter shook his head firmly and repeated himself once more. "No…I-I like having you around now. It's cool." Our gazes remained locked, and my smile broadened as his own replicated mine. The bell sounded through the hall, and as if someone had flicked an on switch, kids and noise flooded the hall.

"Thanks for walking me," I said over the ruckus. Peter nodded and handed me my books.

"No problem."

•••

"So are you gonna come?" I looked up from gathering my history books off my desk and found Ned standing in front of me. I marvelled at how quickly he managed to get here following the bell.

"Uh," I tugged my purse onto my shoulder. "I _think_ so."

"Really!?" If it was possible, he appeared the most excited I'd ever seen him since meeting him this morning. He glanced at Peter, who'd come up beside us. "Now we're _officially_ the three amigos…Wait," He whipped his head back around to me. "Do you know Spanish?"

"Ned," Peter groaned. "She _is_ Spanish."

A small gasp escaped the Filipino boy. "You are?" He breathed. I nodded, biting my lip to contain a bout of laughter as we left the history classroom together. "Cool! So were you, like, born _in_ Mexico?"

"In Spain," I corrected. Ned's grin widened in excitement and he turned to Peter to see if his friend mirrored his wonder. Peter, however, knew exactly what road Ned was going down with these questions. He knew as well as I did that we had to steer the conversation in a different course immediately.

"Y-you know, you don't have to join the team," Peter said. "Don't let Ned harass you into it." His friend scoffed.

"I am not _harassing_ her," he argued.

"Yeah you are!" Peter laughed.

Ned's expression was one of feigned betrayal. "I am not!"

"Boys?" We stopped in our tracks, the three of us simultaneously tearing our gazes from each other to focus on Mr. Harrington. "The meeting is in the library," he said, lifting a hand and pointing it in the direction we _weren't_ heading in.

"Oh yeah," Ned laughed sheepishly and spun to head in said direction. I glanced at Peter, unsure if now was good time to talk to him.

"Mr. Harrington?" Peter said. The teacher's eyes fell on him.

"Yes, Mr. Parker?"

"Are you still looking for a photographer for the Nationals trip?"

Mr. Harrington nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, right. I appear to have forgotten about that," he admitted with a grimace.

"Kasey would like to do it!" Ned yelled, rushing back to us probably after realizing we weren't following him. I felt my face flush furiously.

"Really?" Mr. Harringtons's eyes fell on me and he smiled excitedly. "Welcome to the team, Kasey."

 **AN: Hey everyone! So I made a bunch of new cover pages for TUG. I've made it my profile pic so you guys can check them out. I can't decide which one to use, I've just chosen 5 for now because I feel like it looks the most professional lol. But I'd really like to hear your guys' opinions, so please leave a comment letting me know which one you like the most!**

 **Or if anyone wants to make a different cover for me, that would be cool too lol**

 **You can also check out the TUG covers at this link (minus the spaces) (it may or may not work lol)**

 **www. flickr photos/ 133249069 N02/ 24041548487/ in/ dateposted-public /**

 **if that doesn't work you could check out my Flickr, Quotev or Wattpad all with the same username: AfterDaybreak :)**


	19. Chapter 18

"Oh no, I don't think I can actually _join_ the team, I was just thinking I could take pictures on the trip," I explained, desperately praying that Mr. Harrington wouldn't take it too personally.

 _Why the hell do people keep randomly welcoming me before I even decide to join, anyway?_

He nodded in understanding. "Well nonetheless, you're welcome to join our meetings and practice sessions. We're always open to new members."

"Okay, thanks. I'll consider it." Mr. Harrington smiled and continued past us to the library. As soon as he was out of earshot, Ned whirled on me.

"You're not joining?" He asked sadly.

"Uh," I winced at his crestfallen tone an expression. "No, I really don't think I'm that smart. Besides, I have a lot of homework I should probably do," I shrugged. "I dunno, maybe I'll come to the next one." Ned did his best to conceal his disappointment but I knew it was there; I could read it. Peter shifted on his feet and hooked his thumbs on his backpack straps.

"S-So are you gonna head home then?" He asked.

"No," I shook my head and laughed. "I don't really feel like walking. I'm gonna try to finish some homework." I took a small step in the direction of the library. Peter—having caught my hint almost instantly—followed suit, prompting Ned to do the same.

"In that case, you should probably try sitting as far from the team as possible," Ned advised quite seriously. I narrowed my eyes questioningly. "Flash likes to be the loudest," he explained. " _And_ make paper airplanes to throw at people when Mr. Harrington isn't looking."

I rolled my eyes with an irritated sigh. "Does anyone else hate him or is it just us?" I caught Peter shrug in my peripheral while Ned continued.

"Liz tries to take care of it sometimes but he's like a toddler."

"Yeah, no kidding," I muttered, recalling how he'd yelled at Peter and I twice today for the sole purpose of making himself feel superior. The thought of it had me reining in my anger before I could explode.

 _God, I hate that kid._

The three of us entered the library; the strange, musty smell of old and new, under-cared-for books floating to meet us when Peter pulled the door open. Flash's loud, obnoxious laugh cut through the silent air and we all shared a unanimous, annoyed sigh in almost-perfect sync.

"Yeah, I'm gonna sit in the _opposite_ corner," I muttered, glancing over at the boys with a smile and feeling significantly relieved that I'd declined a spot on the team. "Have fun." Peter loosed a breath and ran a hand through his hair, returning the smile with a small laugh

"Yeah. You too." The two of them walked off to join the team and I headed in the opposite direction, deciding to nest myself in the furthest corner from Flash Thompson's antics.

•••

"Hey." At the sound of his voice, a smile broke out onto my face before I'd even lifted my gaze from my math textbook. Peter stood at the end of the table I had all my work spread across, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and an earbud tucked into one ear. "You ready to go?" He asked.

"Yeah." My gaze flicked down to the array of questions I'd answered. "Well, almost," I sighed, twirling my pencil absently between my fingers and staring in defeat at the last, dumb question I'd been stuck on for a good ten minutes. "I can't get this stupid question." I flicked my pencil away, propping my elbow up on the table and leaning my cheek into my hand tiredly. Peter came around the table so he was beside me and leaned forward to read it. I looked up, watching his cocoa eyes scan the text and drink in the information. He blinked. Then stared with distant eyes at nothing for a moment. Then he blinked again and looked down at me.

"Uh, you just have to factor out the common factor on this side..." he trailed off for a moment before continuing, using a pencil as a pointer as he spoke. "And the common factor here is the negative three. S-So after you do that, these two components cancel. Then you can solve for x." I sighed internally at myself for being so incompetent and not noticing the numbers all divided perfectly by three.

 _Of course that's what it was. Why couldn't I notice something so simple?_

"Okay," I nodded and searched for my pencil. "Thanks. I don't know how I missed that," I admitted sheepishly, checking under my paper for it. Peter's hand appeared in my vision, holding out the pencil he'd quickly borrowed. I glanced up at him, my face steadily growing red with embarrassment as I took the offered utensil from his fingers.

"Thanks." I hurriedly completed the last of my math homework, beyond relieved to at last be finished with it.

"Okay," I flipped my textbook closed and began tidying all my things. " _Now_ we can go." I ran through my mental to-do list as I piled up my books.

 _Okay, I have a history quiz on Monday so I need my history binder. I have math homework but that's done. And I have chem homework so I need my data book..._ I took the data booklet from my chemistry binder and shoved the assigned worksheet securely inside of it.

"Sorry, I just need to throw these in my locker then we can go," I said, gathering my binders and textbook into my arms.

"No worries," He said, reaching out and taking the two textbooks from the top of my load, making me smile.

"Thanks."

We headed to my locker in relative silence, any remaining students of Midtown—save for the decathlon team—had cleared out well over half an hour ago, leaving the high school uncharacteristically quiet.

"Did Ned already leave?" I asked as we turned down the main hall.

"Yeah, he had to get to a family thing."

"Oh. Does he live close?"

"Just three blocks from us."

"Really?" I reached my locker and threw in the combination. "Do you guys usually walk together?" The door swung open and I piled all the shit I didn't need over the weekend inside.

"Y-Yeah, sometimes." I spun back to face Peter and he held my books out to me, causing my smile to grow as I took them from him. As I organized the items into their places, a thought occurred.

"When do you finish up with the Stark Internship today?" I asked, referring to the code name for his 'Spidey business' and swinging my locker shut. Peter fell into step beside me as we headed back down the hallway and toward the exit.

"Uh, depends. Usually around six." I felt his inquisitive gaze land on me. "Why?"

I shrugged and mused, "just wondering."

"Do you–?"

"I was–"

Simultaneously, our gazes locked in surprise and amusement over speaking at the same time for the second time today.

"You go," Peter offered.

I tugged at my bottom lip with my teeth shyly. "Could we hang out tonight?" I asked quietly, hopefully. Peter's lips tugged upward, widening his smile.

"I was just gonna ask if you wanted to get ice cream," he admitted with a laugh. My grin matched his own.

"That's exactly what I was thinking." Peter rushed in front of me to hold open the door.

"Six thirty?"

"Sure."

And we walked off into the brightest evening I'd ever seen Queens offer.

•••

After organizing my shit into the bathroom and clearing off Peter's top bunk for myself as he'd vehemently insisted I do, I worked on chemistry homework for an hour or two until the arms of the clock neared six thirty. I grabbed my jacket, said goodbye to May, and made my way out of the apartment building and down the sidewalk. Peter hadn't been very specific when he said that he'd 'meet me at six thirty', so I decided it'd be best to begin walking towards Jackson Heights and he'd eventually meet me. I wasn't particularly worried considering the guy was Spider-Man.

Suddenly, a body slammed into me from behind, knocking the wind out of me and propelling me forward and _into the freaking air!_ I swallowed back my terrified scream and threw my arms around my kidnapper's neck in fear as we rose higher. Once I got ahold of myself I punched him in the chest.

"Peter, what the fuck!?" I yelled. He laughed over the roaring wind and fired another web that had us banking around the corner of a building and above a different street.

I was hardly angry about his little stunt, only marginally horrified. But any fear I held quickly evaporated as we glided peacefully through the city. The skyline quickly grew familiar as we neared the ice cream parlour and before I knew it, Peter was landing us on the roof of Jahn's.

"Did I scare you?" He asked, voice brimming with contained laughter. I released my arms from around him and punched his shoulder.

"Shut up," I muttered, my smile betraying my poorly feigned anger. Peter's laughter broke free and he slid his backpack off his shoulders while stepping toward the edge of the roof.

"Be right back," he said before jumping right off and down to the sidewalk below. I smiled and shook my head as he disappeared into the parlour to order us something while still wearing his Spider-Man suit.

 _Hope he gets me something good,_ I thought, picking up his bag and migrating closer to where we sat last time. He was back soon enough with two sundaes in hand.

"If you attack me with ice cream again you're walking home this time," he announced, sitting down beside me. "Deal?"

I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. Deal."

"Do you want your own?" He asked, holding up the sundae bowls with plastic spoons sticking out of them. "Or do you want to share?"

"Do you mind sharing?"

"Nope."

"Cool," I grinned. "So what'd you get?"

"This one's my favourite: marshmallow with vanilla fudge ice cream," Peter waved one of the bowls in the air. "And this one's warm blueberries and stuff on vanilla ice cream. I-I thought you'd like it," he said, handing it to me. My mouth absolutely watered at the sight of it.

I took the bowl from his outstretched hand excitedly. "Thanks." Before the hot blueberries and syrup could completely melt the ice cream, I got a spoonful and shoved it in my mouth. It was incredibly sweet and a kind of bitter but the cold ice cream controlled the hot topping. _Holy shit._ I swallowed.

"Holy shit," I said. "That's _really_ good." Peter let out a _huge_ breath as he was rolling up the bottom of his mask to expose his mouth.

"Oh good, I had no idea if you'd like it or not," he admitted. I laughed and held my bowl out toward him.

"Well it's awesome and you need to try it." Peter grabbed the spoon from the other sundae and dunked it in the blueberry and vanilla one I still held. I watched, waiting for his reaction. But he just shrugged.

"Yeah, it's alright, but I prefer the other one." He picked up the other sundae and I quickly darted my spoon into it, grinning at him as I lifted the spoonful to my mouth.

"So how'd you…" I gestured to him, "you know, get your powers?"

Peter licked marshmallow off his spoon. "You remember that field trip to the Science Hall back in March?"

"Oh yeah, the super boring one about nuclear waste or something."

Peter's jaw dropped. "It was safe-handling of nuclear laboratory wastes and it was _not_ boring!"

"Okay," I laughed finding him cute as hell when he got defensive _and_ nerdy at the same time. "Continue," I prompted, taking another spoonful of my sundae.

"Okay, so I'm not _entirely_ sure what happened, but I've been trying to work it out ever since it happened and I _think_ I got it." He was beginning to get really excited about it and his excitement was so overpowering I couldn't help but smile wider as he spoke. "So there was a particle accelerator used in the demonstration. And it uses electromagnets to focus the particles inside of it and electric fields to accelerate the particles using radio waves. So when the particles are released and hit their target they release this energy, and that's what's recorded by the scientists but that doesn't matter and I _think_ what happened is a spider got hit by some radiation that escaped the containment. And that would make sense, right? Cuz radiation is just energy waves and particles and that accelerator _creates_ electromagnetic particles, which release that energy in waves and _that's_ what irradiated that spider. The only think I can't figure out is why I got _this_ from it," Peter shrugged and ate another spoonful of his sundae. "I dunno. But pretty cool, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. You kinda lost me at electromagnets but it _sounded_ cool." Peter looked across at me and chuckled. "You know, you get _crazy_ excited when you nerd out like that," I said, now laughing as well. "Seriously, how do you know all that stuff?"

He shrugged again. "I don't really know," he admitted. "I've just always been really good at understanding science and math concepts. May says my parents were the same way, so maybe I got it from them." It was almost imperceptible, but I noticed the tick of a muscle in his hardening jaw; the tensing of his body; the dissipation of his once overwhelming excitement and joy. Peter exhaled through his nose and spoke quietly.

"Can you listen?"

I nodded, sensing all the strange emotions I'd never known the boy who sat beside me harboured. "Of course," I murmured.

"Okay," he looked down at his feet, swinging over the edge of the roof. "Well May raised me, you probably know that by now. Her and my uncle Ben have been taking care of me since my parents left when I was about three. I dunno why they left and I never really ask because all it ever does is makes May sad. So the first few weeks I had my powers I never really used them to help people… and one night uncle Ben and I had a fight." Peter's voice was growing softer as he went on, and the waves of anguish floating off of him were almost unbearable. I knew exactly where his story was headed. "And I was _mad_ so I–I _left._ And he went out to find me. And there was a robber," his voice caught on that sentence and I found myself holding back my own tears as well. "And I didn't stop him… But uncle Ben tried to." Peter sniffed, and his next words were no more than a raspy whisper. "And he killed him." His hand balled into a loose fist. "He shot uncle Ben," he said. "And I could've stopped him. But I didn't." He paused and took a shaky breath before continuing with a stronger voice. "I made a mistake that night that I couldn't take back. And the only way I know how to make up for it is to save people because that's what Ben would've wanted. He once told me that with great power comes great responsibility, and that's what he meant when he told me that and that's why I do what I do." I thought he was finished when he lifted his head to meet my eyes, but he was far from it. "But I don't deserve any of this," he said. "I don't deserve these powers, or May, or you, or anything." I bit my lip against the words that bubbled up my throat, forcing myself to remain quiet and _listen,_ like he asked me to. "I _like_ being Spider-Man and I have such a great life and now I have _you_ but I shouldn't have any of it because there's so much bad in the world that I can't fix and I can't keep up with it. You know?" he sighed and lifted a hand to rub his face. "It–it's hard to explain, but I just feel like I don't deserve all this when the only reason I have it is because I let something bad happen to someone who didn't deserve it."

I nodded. "I know what you mean."

Peter breathed shakily, both with anger and sorrow. And his eyes—despite not being able to see them through his mask—said to continue.

 _Okay. My turn._

"You know me. I've been stealing and lying since I was five. That's ten years worth of crimes," I shook my head, willing myself not to break down. "I've been so busy being _bad_ all my life just to _survive_ that there was no room to be good. And the worst part is I _knew_ what I was doing was bad but I never did anything about it because I wasn't strong enough to break away from papá… I'd never done a good deed in my life and then you come in and you want to save me: the unsaveable girl. I didn't think I was worth saving—didn't I _could_ be. But you just kept at it and now I'm living with you guys and I get a chance to be happy but I don't feel like I deserve that luxury because why would a criminal deserve any of that? I've been the happiest I've ever been, probably in my whole life today. And I feel like I'm cheating because I'm with probably the best people in the world and you guys are giving me everything. But people like me don't get to have that kind of stuff and it doesn't _feel_ right. You know?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah."

We sat in silence before he said, "we're a lot more alike than I thought."

I smiled. "Yeah."

"Sorry for getting so feely," he said, making me laugh and shake my head.

"I don't know why you're apologizing, I'm glad. I feel so much better now that I told someone everything," I leaned over, bumping my shoulder against his. "Thank you for telling me all that."

"Y–Yeah, you too," he looked away shyly. "It's nice knowing someone gets me."

"Yeah." _I finally don't feel alone anymore._

"Is it weird that I feel more confident around you as Spider-Man than as Peter?" He asked after a few beats of silence.

"No. It kinda makes sense."

"Oh!" Peter perked up suddenly, spinning his head around wildly in search of something. "I almost forgot!" He snatched his backpack up and unzipped one of the pouches. I grinned as I watched the happy, energetic Peter I knew return. He extracted a case and handed it to me.

"What is it?" I asked, eyeing the box warily in case it happened to be a prank to get back at me from the last time we went out of ice cream.

"Just open it," he insisted excitedly. I shot him a weird look, then flipped the case open.

A pair of glasses sat inside.

I raised a brow at him.

"Are you insinuating that I'm blind?" I accused.

"N-No," he stuttered. "I-I just thought–"

"I know," I laughed. "I am kinda blind, I think. I just…" I shook my head incredulously. "How did you know? And how did you get me these? I– I can't believe you _did_ this."

Peter grinned. "The last time we were here you couldn't see down to the street. And then you moved seats in chemistry because you couldn't see the board. I-I did some light research on lenses and stuff and did some math and brought my old glasses in to have the lens switched out for a new one. But I dunno if it'll work, my math might be a little off with the new formula and the distance estimations and stuff." I grinned at his nervous ramblings and picked the glasses up, unfolding the arms and placing them uncertainly behind my ears.

And the smears in the distance I was so accustomed to were suddenly detailed and I could actually _see_ the trashcan Peter threw his napkin ball into the last time we sat here.

I could _see._

"I feel like I can see _everything,_ " I murmured, gazing around in absolute wonder. "I can't believe people see all this _all_ _the time_."

Peter laughed.

And the world was at last clear.

 **AN: AGH I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME LIKE TWO AND A HALF WEEKS TO UPDATE. I've just been so busy with school because all my teachers are last minute cramming and with getting ready for the holidays (I'm so freaking excited!) So yeah, I've been super busy, so to try and make up for it I decided to give you guys a hella cute and hella long chapter. Hope y'all enjoyed it! I died a little writing this lol.**

 **So because I'm so off with my update schedule I'm gonna update** ** _next_** **Thursday as oppose to the** ** _upcoming_** **Thursday…if that makes sense haha.**

 **Also, I'm trying to find an actor to use as a face claim in a new story I'm working on but it's literally impossible and I need help lmao. SO IF ANYONE KNOWS OF A PALE SKINNED, BLACK HAIRED MALE ACTOR/MODEL WITH GREY/DARK EYES THAT COULD PASS AS A VERY HUMAN-LOOKING, 17 YEAR OLD ALIEN PLEASE LET ME KNOW! Thank you!**

 **Anywho,** ** _please_** **review because** ** _a ton_** **of work went into this chapter! I love you guys and I'm super sorry for the long wait!**


	20. Chapter 19

I could hardly keep myself from staring at everything the remainder of the night, I just loved seeing it all! I swore to myself I would never take those glasses off if I could help it.

"These are awesome!" I said, gazing around excitedly while waiting for Peter to change out of his Spider-Man suit.

"Yeah?" He appeared beside me suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. "S-So you like them?"

"I love them," I laughed, falling into step beside him as we left the alley and turned onto the sidewalk. I bumped my shoulder lightly against his. "Thank you, again."

Peter grinned shyly and scratched the back of his neck. "No problem, I haven't needed them since I got my powers anyway." I tucked a rogue lock of brown hair behind one ear and adjusted the glasses on my nose. They felt kinda weird, and it was strange seeing the frames in my vision. I chewed on my lip uncertainly and turned towards him.

"Do they make me look funny?" I asked. Peter blinked in surprise and met my gaze with wide, warm brown eyes.

"N-No." He smiled, his cheeks reddening. "They look nice."

His nervousness made me grin. "Okay. Thanks." _Wouldn't wanna walk around Midtown looking like an idiot, so that's a relief... unless he's just being polite..._

I squinted at him. "You're not just saying that...are you?"

He recoiled in confusion. "W-What? No! I... I'm serious," he laughed. "I like them, you look really nice."

I bit the inside of my lip and smiled. "Okay, I'm just making sure I don't look stupid."

Peter hurried in front of me to pull the door to the apartment building open. "You don't," he said reassuringly.

I laughed this time, grinning as I walked past him and inside. "Thank you."

"I'm probably gonna be out most of tomorrow for the Stark Internship," he mused, pressing the up button on the elevator. So...do you uh, wanna watch something tonight?" We stepped into the elevator and he pressed our floor number, then hooked his thumbs on his backpack straps.

I smiled excitedly to myself and nodded. "Yeah, that'd be fun. What were you thinking of watching?"

"Star Wars," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "But i-it doesn't matter, we can watch whatever."

I shook my head. "No, Star Wars sounds good." The elevator came to a stop with a ding, it's doors sliding open a moment later.

"Really? Cool." Peter chuckled and stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway. "May won't be very impressed." I raised a questioning brow, prompting him to elaborate. He ducked his head a bit in embarrassment. "I-I watch them pretty often, so she gets a little annoyed with me sometimes." He shrugged.

"Ohhh she's gonna think you brainwashed me into agreeing or something?"

Peter laughed as he took his apartment key from his pocket to unlock the door. "Yeah, maybe." He unlocked the door, and—instead of walking inside—held it open for me as per usual. With a murmured thank you, I hurried inside before he could notice my red-flushed cheeks.

"Hey, May!" Peter yelled, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, guys!" May called cheerfully from the kitchen. "How was it?"

I shrugged my jacket off. "Good!"

"Yeah, it was fun." Peter took my jacket from my hands with a grin, hanging it up for me with his own.

 _I swear to god, this boy's chivalry will be the death of me._ The aroma of slightly burnt pancakes intensified as I entered the kitchen and beheld the mess. May spun and grinned hugely when her eyes fell on me, one hand on her hip and the other waving a spatula at me.

"Hey! Nice glasses, Kasey! They look great!"

I laughed and ran my fingers through my hair, "thanks." I squinted in confusion at the oddly cloudy air. "Is is it just me or is it kinda smokey in here?" I asked.

Peter appeared beside me. "It's smokey," he confirmed.

May laughed and gestured to the pile of crispy, brown pancakes. "Well I'm not surprised, I have burnt a few of these."

Peter sighed as if he'd addressed this issue before. "May, you're gonna set off the smoke detectors if you keep burning them," he said, turning to head into his room. "Kase can you open a few windows?" He called.

"Yep." I hurried around the living room, cracking each window open a bit.

"May, check the pancakes!" Peter yelled. I heard her curse quietly and pick up a spatula before rushing over to the stove. It was an effort to contain my laughter when she swore again and dropped the spatula on the counter.

"Okay. I'm done," May announced with an irritated sigh. Peter took this as his cue and entered the kitchen to take over her spot at the stove while May began washing dishes.

"I just don't understand why I can _never_ make pancakes!" She muttered. Peter shook his head with a laugh as he added the latest pair of burnt pancakes to the pile.

"I don't understand why you _keep trying to make them,_ " he mused, heading back to the stove and pouring more batter into the pan. Their comfortable, teasing banter made me grin uncontrollably.

"Anything I can do?" I asked, leaning against the counter.

"Sure, you could set the table," May offered after a moment's pondering. "The dishes are in that cabinet, the cutlery in that drawer, the glasses are there, and the syrup and stuff is in there," she said, waving her finger to different cabinets and drawers about the kitchen. So I set to work gathering the needed items and placing them on the little square table, sometimes having to stand on my tiptoes to reach the tall shelves in cabinets, which earned me some teasing from Peter who eventually helped me get some things my short arms couldn't reach.

And the whole time I couldn't stop watching Peter cook. Something about it was just so weird and amusing.

"What?" He asked, catching me staring while he flipped the pancakes.

I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders a bit. "Nothing, it's just weird seeing you cook and actually doing a decent job."

May burst into a fit of laughter that I found myself joining while Peter watched us hopelessly, leaning against the counter by the stove with a spatula in his hand and looking close to the ideal stay-at-home dad.

May pressed a hand to her chest when she at last caught her breath. "Yeah, Peter's acquired a lot of kitchen knowledge since I end up burning stuff quite often," she gestured helplessly to the pancakes. "Usually pancakes."

Peter nodded and tossed more pancakes onto the growing pile. "Can you put the movie in?" He asked, his eyes flicking up to mine. May paused her dish washing and spun toward us in surprise.

"Sure, but you'll have to walk me through it," I said, only having the slightest idea as to how to operate a DVD player and a decently functioning TV.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Peter handed me the spatula. "Here, I'll be a sec."

"Wait, what?" I took the utensil, nervously glancing at the pan on the stove and the batter on it's surface. "I have no idea what I'm doing." I insisted. Peter turned, shooting me a playful grin.

"This'll only take a second," he said, kneeling in front of the TV.

"What are we watching?" May asked.

And for the third time that day, we spoke in complete sync. "Star Wars." Laughing, I tore my gaze from the pancakes to meet Peter's.

"Is that the third time?" I asked.

"I think so."

"Who chose Star Wars?" May demanded.

"I did," I blurted, saving Peter from a glare from his aunt. Using the spatula, I lifted the edge of one of the pancakes off the pan's surface. I had no idea if it was the right colour or not, but I shuffled the spatula under it and dropped it onto it's other side anyways, then did the same to the other.

"Kasey, that's raw," Peter said, suddenly at my side. I scoffed and poked the solid side of the pancakes with the spatula.

"No it's not," I protested.

"It's still squishy," he insisted.

I rolled my eyes with a sigh. "Well _jeez_ , Pete. If you wanted me to make a frickin _hockey puck_ out of it you could've _mentioned_ that." May made an unsuccessful attempt to stifle her laughter and I grinned. " _These_ ," I pointed at the pancakes. "Are gonna be fluffier _and_ better than yours." He laughed and backed away in surrender.

"Fine," he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "You can make the rest and we'll see who's are better."

"Fine."

•••

My pancakes were better.

Peter wouldn't admit it, but during the movie I saw him searching purposefully for the last of my golden pancakes within the pile.

They _were_ pretty good, even if a few of them were a tiny bit raw, which he made sure to point out each time.

The movie was old and a little confusing, but I liked it. I could understand why Peter loved it so much. He really wasn't kidding when he'd said he watched it a lot; every time I look over at him throughout the movie, I'd almost always catch him mouthing the lines while curled up beneath a blanket and it was all I could do to contain my laughter.

When the movie ended and he told me there were seven episodes and counting, I couldn't help but get excited to see them all.

I fell asleep with a peaceful smile on my face that night.

 **AN: Jeez, that was 1600 words of ick. Sorry for making you guys wait two weeks for that lol. I had intentions of updating on Thursday but I suddenly had a hella busy day that I wasn't expecting so I only had time to update one story. And idk why but I really wasn't feeling this chapter for some reason. I'd also like to mention that this chapter was ready and would have been up Friday evening but an error kept popping up whenever I tried to submit this to doc manager, so the extra few hours delay on this was totally not my fault lol. I'm legit uploading this at 2:30 in the morning now that it finally decided to work again.**

 **So yeah, anyways, my break ends in two days *cries* and I have finals coming up in two weeks *cries some more* so expect some more delays in updating, sorry y'all.**

 **Anyways, you guys are seriously the best for putting up with my shitty updating schedule, thank you so much! Just hang in there a little longer! I'll hopefully get my vibe back soon and updates will become more regular as soon as I can manage it :)**


	21. Chapter 20

The majority of my Saturday was—surprisingly enough—spent shopping with May. She was excited to be the first person to take me 'proper shopping,' because apparently, stealing clothes from a convenience store wasn't 'proper shopping.'

Initially, I wasn't particularly excited about the idea. But May had more than enough excitement for the both of us and it wasn't long before it began to rub off on me and we were cheerfully discussing which stores I might like to visit for which kinds of clothing.

As promised, I had tons of fun running around Queens Center and trying on just about every article of clothing that I came across. May had mentioned looking for a dress for Midtown's Homecoming in three weeks, but I'd never attended that dance and I had zero intentions of doing so this year either, so we didn't make an effort to find one—much to my relief. We were still super successful and ended up getting quite a lot, despite my protests. I repeatedly promised to repay her once I found myself a job, because buying almost an entire wardrobe for me was _not_ cheap.

After we organized my new clothes onto an unoccupied shelf in Peter's closet, I helped May with dinner—taking extra precautions to ensure nothing was burned. And our homemade macaroni and cheese actually turned out fairly well in my opinion. Though Peter—once he'd returned home from the 'Internship'—argued that it was underdone. Though I deemed his opinion irrelevant and biased because he was jealous that May deemed me the official household cook that night while eating dinner and watching a movie. He denied that too of course, but I knew better.

•••

I spent my Sunday morning handing my résumé out to just about every decent place I could find. At one point, Spider-Man stopped to walk with me and suggested I apply at a deli.

"The Delmar Deli?" I repeated dully. "Really?" _It just sounds like any other random sandwich shop._

"Yeah! They have the best sandwiches and Mr. Delmar's great! Trust me, you'll love it."

I raised a brow uncertainly. "You're serious?"

"Yes! Come on!" Without waiting for my reply, Peter swiftly wrapped an arm around me and shot into the air. With effort, I managed to contain my surprised scream and instead cursed at him. He laughed.

I didn't mind the whole 'swinging through the air' part—in fact, I loved it—but I _did_ mind the 'lack of warning' part. Though I was soon to learn that nothing about Peter Parker _ever_ came with warnings.

•••

"S'up Mr. Delmar?" Peter called, entering the deli behind me.

"Mr. Parker! You're early today!" A man appeared at the counter, his dark, greying hair and coffee coloured skin along with his accent denoting his obvious Spanish descent. "You want the usual?" He asked, leaning comfortably on the counter with his hands clasped in front of him. I followed Peter to the counter as confidently as I could manage. He'd laid out the game plan for me after he'd thrown normal clothes on over his Spidey suit, but I still couldn't help my ever-present nerves.

"Sure. With pickles too, please." Mr. Delmar nodded and threw it into the cash register, then looked to me expectantly.

"And for you, chica?"

"Number four, please," I said with a smile despite not knowing in the slightest what I was ordering. Peter had said I'd like it though, so I had to trust him. Mr. Delmar nodded and punched our requests in. The total popped up and Peter took out his wallet.

"So how's your guys' morning going?" Mr. Delmar asked.

"Not bad," Peter shrugged, handing him the payment. "We were just passing by and– oh, right, this is my friend, Kasey," he stopped mid-sentence to introduce me. "Kasey, Mr. Delmar."

Mr. Delmar inclined his head in greeting and held out his hand. "Hello, Kasey."

I smiled and shook his hand. "Hola."

The man brightened, "ahh ¿tu hablas Español, eh?"

I nodded. "Sí."

He nodded appreciatively and said to Peter, "I like her." Peter chuckled and glanced at me as if to say _'go for it.'_ So I did.

"We were just passing by when I remembered Peter telling me how awesome this place is, and I wanted to drop off my résumé quickly." I extracted a copy from my purse and held it out to him. "If you're ever looking for a part-time employee, it'd be great if you could consider me." He took the offered paper from my hand and quickly glanced over it in surprise.

"Of course, chica." He jerked a thumb toward the man making our sandwiches behind us and said in a low, amused voice, "Daniel's old bones might appreciate a break."

Daniel laughed, still having heard his boss's words. "Yes, they would," he agreed. Mr. Delmar nodded thoughtfully to himself.

"I'll call you," he said, his eyes falling back to me.

A grin spread across my face. "Thank you so much." _Finally, some success!_ A sudden, high meow sounded from below. I looked down, watching in curiosity as a fluffy, brown cat weaved itself between Peter's feet.

"Hey, Murph!" Peter bent down and scooped the animal into his arms.

"Lazy _gato_ has been asleep since Friday," Mr. Delmar muttered. I laughed, watching as the cat leaned into Peter's hand and purred quietly. "He's friendly," Mr. Delmar said, reading my uncertainty.

Embarrassed, my cheeks warmed and I felt absolutely ridiculous for hesitating to pet a cat. "I've just never actually met a cat before," I admitted quietly, reaching a hand out and sinking it into Murph's long, brown fur. "Oh my gosh, he's so soft," I murmured. Peter breathed a laugh and scratched behind the cat's ear, causing his purring to grow.

"Yeah. Murph and I are best buddies," he said, hugging the cat closer to him. Mr. Delmar and I shared a laugh.

"Because you always bring him food," Mr. Delmar said in an almost scolding tone. "You're going to make him fat." Daniel—finished with building our sandwiches—placed two, long paper bags on the counter in front of us. Murph meowed and wriggled from Peter's arms to inspect the bagged food curiously.

We grabbed our early lunch before the cat could hungrily attack it and thanked Mr. Delmar and Daniel before leaving.

•••

Peter dropped by the apartment later while I was laying in my bunk and studying for my upcoming history quiz. He scared the shit out of me when he soundlessly slid the window open and poked his head inside shouting _"I have an idea!"_

Luckily, my first instinct had been to yell _"WHAT THE FUCK!"_ and jab him in the face as oppose to screaming, but I couldn't decide if I was glad he dodged my fist, or disappointed. Because he really deserved a broken nose for doing that to me _then laughing._

"Oh my _god!_ " I cried. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you!? You can't just _do_ that!" Peter was laughing uncontrollably from the other side of the window, still clinging to the outside of the apartment building.

"You're an ass," I muttered, reaching up and shoving the window closed. He let me, only to open it again a moment later.

"I'm sorry," he said, the laughter still edging his voice and telling me he wasn't really. "Can I come in?"

I exhaled and closed up my history notes. "It's your room," I mused, shuffling back on my bed to make room for him. I watched in wonder as Peter stuck a hand through the open window and placed his fingertips on the roof, then swung the rest of his body inside and released his glue-like grip on the roof to plop down onto my mattress with neatly crossed legs.

"What's up?" He asked, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders and tossing it to the ground.

"Oh, I'm just studying for uh, a history quiz tomorrow," I said, holding up my binder to provide visual evidence. He nodded and reached a hand behind him to close the window. "But...why are you–?"

"Oh right!" Peter rolled to the edge of my bunk and dropped to the ground. "I almost forgot, I had this really good idea that couldn't wait so I rushed over here." He reached behind his head and tore his mask mask off as he sat down at his desk. I pushed my binder aside and laid down on my stomach, watching as he rummaged through the desk drawers.

"Soooo what're you doing?"

"Aha!" He extracted what I assumed was an old phone triumphantly. "You need a phone," he said, throwing the drawer shut and beginning to clear a spot on his desk. I considered protesting but in all honesty I really _did_ need one.

"So you're gonna perform surgery...?" I guessed, adjusting my glasses on my nose.

He grabbed his phone from a compartment on his utility belt and placed it on the table beside the other, older one. "Sort of. I just have to replace this old one's battery and move my SIM card to it."

"And maybe replace the screen," I added, noting how cracked it was.

He chuckled and nodded as he laid strips of tape across it's front. "Yeah."

It was intriguing to watch him disassemble the iPhone with sure, steady hands, almost as if he'd done it before, which I'm sure he did, especially considering the software running on his current phone looked nothing like the latest iOS.

"Did you install your own software on your phone?" I asked suspiciously. Peter laughed as he popped what I assumed was the battery out of the device's skeleton.

"Yeah, kinda."

I smiled and shook my head in awe. _Jeez, I wonder what it's like to be that smart._

"You know you should probably be going to MIT or something, right?"

He chuckled and glanced back at me with a dorky smile. "You know I'm no Tony Stark, right?" He turned back to the dismembered phone. "Besides, Avengers don't have time to go to school."

I rolled my eyes. "Right, I forgot saving the world was a full-time job. I don't know about you but I haven't heard anything about another alien invasion or A.I. takeover in a while now. Villains have been pretty quiet lately considering how crazy it's been the past eight years." Peter paused momentarily in reconstructing the inner workings of the phone.

"Yeah," he murmured thoughtfully. "It's kind of weird."

"Kinda good though, I guess. I like the quiet."

"Yeah," he began reconnecting the phone screen to the body. "Me too."

Though I had the feeling it wouldn't remain this way forever. And I knew the same thought was running through Peter's mind as well.

And unfortunately for us, we were right.

 **AN: I am so sorry you guys I have no idea why it's so difficult for me to update on time lately. And considering how long it took me to write this chapter it should be something like Shakespeare tbh but it's pretty shitty lol and I'm sorry, idk what's going on with my TUG vibe but it's hella annoying and I'm trying my best to keep at it. Sorry guys :/**

 **Thank you all for the continued support despite my disappointing updates lately, I appreciate it tons! You guys are awesome! :)**


	22. Chapter 21

Peter Parker stood in the kitchen, rummaging around in the freezer at two am in his blue, fleece pyjama pants and a grey sweater that was on backwards.

 _What the hell is he doing?_

"Peter."

He jumped. Spider-Man actually _jumped_ at the sound of my voice, dropping whatever it was he'd been holding and ramming into the open freezer door with a curse.

"Heh, h-hey, Kase," he offered me a small wave and a sheepish grin, attempting to play off how startled he'd quite obviously been.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

"Uh...I–uh," Peter released a breath and ran a hand through his unruly hair, which appeared to be exceptionally curly. "I-I couldn't sleep," he admitted quietly, then lifted his concerned gaze to me. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," I shook my head and hugged my arms to myself to ward off the cold. "I couldn't really sleep either."

"Oh," he nodded in understanding. "Are you uh, are you okay?"

Not entirely sure how to answer that question, I just shrugged and decided to change the topic. Jerking my chin toward the freezer, I asked him what he was doing. Peter blinked, his gaze returning to the open freezer as if he'd completely forgotten he was still standing in the light of it.

"O–Oh yeah, I was– I was just grabbing an ice pack," he said, reaching down to grab something from an open drawer.

 _An ice pack?_ "What happened?"

"Uh, n-nothing," upon reading my doubtful expression, he repeated himself. "It's nothing," he insisted, swinging the freezer door shut and plunging the kitchen into complete darkness. My gradually adjusting eyes picked up his blurry movement as he walked toward me.

"Don't worry about it," Peter murmured, his hand only barely grazing my arm in a brief, reassuring touch. I wasn't sure if it was for the purpose of alleviating my worry or ensuring I could see him in the low light without my glasses. But either way, it _did_ make me feel better.

With the sensation of exhaustion creeping in, I relented and returned to my bunk with Peter on my heels.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked, laying on my mattress and staring up at the ceiling while listening to him shuffling around beneath me.

Almost imperceptibly, he winced. "Yeah."

My lips turned downward in a doubtful frown. I wanted to keep pushing; wanted him to tell me the truth and let me help. But I knew to leave him be. He'd never pried me for information, and so neither would I.

Peter sucked in a sharp, pained breath. "Actually," he said, "c-could you, just...check it out? If you don't mind?"

"Sure." Tossing my bedcovers off, I crawled to the edge of the mattress and dropped to the floor. "What happened?" I asked, going to turn the lights on.

"I fell," he admitted as the room flooded with light.

I recoiled in surprise. "Spider-Man _falls?_ " I teased, spinning back around. Peter breathed a laugh and stood from his bed.

"I-It's a new web formula," he explained with a sigh. "It doesn't retain tension too well at high angles... _or_ high speeds."

I grabbed my glasses off the edge of Peter's desk and pushed them on. "And that means...?"

"Well there's always a tension force on the web when I'm swinging, otherwise it wouldn't be able to hold anything, right?"

I nodded, doing my best to follow along and comprehend his words. "Okay."

"So when something is travelling in a vertical circle, the largest tension force is at the bottom. And the webbing couldn't handle all the force so it snapped at the bottom of my swing, a–and I landed on my back," he shrugged, then winced at the movement. "And I also jumped from a high angle, so that didn't help. Because the higher the angle, the larger the potential energy that's converted to kinetic, which is the biggest at the bottom so when I fell I had a crazy—and I mean _crazy_ —high velocity."

 _Never mind. He lost me._ I nodded slowly and unsurely. "Right. Okay, just...let me see," I insisted. Peter grinned and pulled his sweater off while turning his back to me.

I grimaced sharply at the sight. "Oh...god, Peter."

Spreading across his back from his right shoulder was an ugly expanse of swollen, blue-purple skin. Defined lines of red appeared to line the bone of his shoulder blade, leading me to believe he actually bruised his freaking _bone_. And that meant he probably bruised some muscle in the process. It looked so painful I was too busy cringing at the sight to admire his incredibly toned back.

"Is it bad?" He asked.

 _Is he serious?_ "Peter, can you seriously _not_ feel it?" I asked, unable to tear my gaze from his horribly contused back.

He shook his head. "No, not really. I usually heal pretty fast so I only feel bruises for an hour or two. Except for this one, it won't go away." He craned his head around, trying to catch a glimpse of it but gave up after only a few tries.

"I think you bruised a bone," I murmured, analyzing the massive contusion and sifting through my brain for any ways to treat it.

Peter rolled his shoulders, wincing as his bruised back muscles rippled and contracted beneath his purple-mottled skin. "Yeah, I think you're right."

Shaking my head grimly, I snatched the ice pack off his bed and pressed it to the injury, causing him to tense up with a hiss.

"That's cold," he breathed.

"You should ice it every so often for a few minutes at a time to keep it from swelling any more and making you look like a hunchback," I advised. "Maybe try an ice bath too."

"Okay, thanks. Anything else?"

I racked my brain, finding it extremely difficult to recall anything. "Uh, Advil or anything that increases circulation will help with pain. And I'd say you should rest, but I know you won't, and it doesn't do much to help it heal anyways, so it doesn't really matter."

Peter shivered and nodded his head. "Okay. Thanks."

"Sorry, there's not much–" I stopped, a thought suddenly occurring. And Peter didn't even have to spin around and see my expression to notice.

"What?" He asked.

"Hold this," I ordered, referring to the cold compress I'd been pressing against the darkest-coloured area of his bruise. Peter reached an arm behind his head, flailing his hand around in an aimless search. "Jesus, Peter," I muttered. He chuckled when I grabbed his wrist and firmly placed his hand on the ice pack. "Okay, just give me a sec." I rushed over the the closet where most of my belongings resided and shoved my hand to the back of the shelf my neatly folded clothes sat on. The second I felt the material of my duffle bag beneath my fingertips, I snatched it from the darkness and yanked it open in search of an item I forgot I'd even had.

 _There it is._ I grabbed the diminished roll of soft, black Kinesio tape.

"What's that?" Peter asked, having turned around to watch me while still awkwardly pressing the ice pack to his bruise. Completely of their own accord, my eyes almost immediately fell to Peter's impressively toned abs. Then to his defined biceps. _Holy shit. I need to stop staring._

"K-tape," I said. "Turn around."

He obeyed, spinning and putting his discoloured back on display again. "What's it do?"

I fiddled with the roll I held, trying to find the end of the tape. "It's supposed to lift skin off of bruised muscles to improve blood flow and help them heal faster," I began unrolling the first section of tape with eyeballed measurements, but paused and frowned at the square edges. "Do you have scissors?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Uh, y–yeah," Peter turned to his desk and reached down to open one of the drawers with his free hand. "Here." He held the tool out to me.

"Thanks." Taking them from his hands, I quickly cut the tape from the roll and began cutting the edges of the tape, forming rounded ends.

"Ohhh, that's so it won't peel off?" He guessed, watching me work.

"Yep." I held the length up and trimmed the ends again before deeming it adequate. "Okay, you can stop icing it for now," I said, turning back to him.

"Oh, good. I was getting really cold," he admitted, removing the ice pack and tossing it onto his bed. I breathed a laugh upon seeing the goosebumps dotting his skin and lifted the black strip up to his bruise.

 _Okay, let's hope I do this right,_ I thought, peeling the paper backing off the K-tape like a bandaid to expose the sticky side and begin laying it across the purple skin.

"Okay," I lifted my hands away to inspect my work. "How does it feel?"

" _Really_ cool," he laughed, moving his arm and shoulder experimentally. "Weird, though. I–It's kinda like it's…lighter, I guess." I grinned, watching him try to get a better look at it.

"Good, that means I did it right. But you're gonna need more than one piece, so you should probably sit down because it might take a while," I said, unrolling another section.

"I can cut them and round the edges and you can put them on," he offered, extending an open hand toward me with a dorky, lopsided grin that made my own grow.

"Sure," I gathered the tape and scissors and placed them in his hand. "Thanks."

"No problem."

As promised, Peter was quick to cut the first strip after I helped to show him how long to make it, and soon enough, we were working rhythmically in comfortable silence until I'd constructed a large pattern of overlapping black strips covering the expanse of his purple and red contusion.

"Okay…" I carefully laid the final piece along his back. "That's it," I announced," stepping away to view my masterpiece.

"How does it look?" He asked, attempting to spin his head like an owl to get a glimpse of it.

I grinned at him. "Pretty cool."

Peter looked up and met my gaze excitedly. "Nice. It feels _awesome_ ," he said, swinging his arms to test out his movability. "And I can keep these on for a few days? Even if I shower?"

"Yep, they're waterproof."

"Cool." He grabbed his sweater and pulled it back on, this time the right way.

It was a few minutes later when we were once again laying in the silent darkness that he asked me 'how I knew all that stuff.'

My heart pounded almost painfully in my chest. "I wanted to be a physiotherapist once," I said quietly, my voice almost breaking on the words.

And somehow, that was enough to convince him of my lie.

 **AN: Ahhhhhh Kasey is** ** _lyinggggg!_** **I wonder why…**

 **Anywho, lol sorry for taking forever to update, I legit haven't stopped studying this entire week, but I wrote my last final this morning so now I'm finally free! Yay!**

 **Thank you for all the follows and favourites! Please keep them coming and leave me some reviews as well, they're my favourite! :D**


	23. Chapter 22

I blinked tiredly, my eyes gradually adjusting to the rays of light pouring in through the window.

 _Holy shit._ I shot upward, throwing my covers off and jumping to the floor.

"Peter!" I yelled. He bolted upright and just about nailed his head on the top bunk. "It's seven o'clock!" I threw open the closet and grabbed the outfit I'd chosen for myself yesterday.

"Shit," he cursed and rolled out of bed while I rushed to the bathroom, unable to believe how late we managed to sleep in. Usually my mental alarm clock would wake me up around six, but I guess losing those two hours of sleep to patch up Peter really took a toll.

I sighed heavily with remorse at the recollection of the lie I'd spoken so easily last night. I didn't want to lie to him, but I didn't want him to know the truth either. Him and May already looked at me with so much pity in their eyes, I couldn't handle seeing his warm brown irises clouded with sorrow again. Not when we were finally beginning to grow more comfortable around each other.

I worried over the false words I'd spoken to my friend as I threw on fresh clothing, then brushed my teeth. It was a small lie—insignificant, almost. But I wasn't naïve. I knew lying was bad and I knew it only ever destroyed trust, even one that seemed so minuscule. The last thing I wanted was to lose everything we'd created between us over a truth I was too afraid to tell.

 _I can't do this to him. He doesn't deserve it._ I glanced up at myself in the mirror, frowning at my reflection and silently scolding myself for not having the guts to tell Peter the truth last night. A quick knock on the bathroom door yanked me back to the present. I reached out and pulled it open, allowing Peter to rush inside.

"I can't believe we slept in that long," he muttered, throwing open a drawer and rummaging through it's contents. "I'm sorry, it–it's my fault for keeping you up last night."

I shot him a look of disbelief while running a brush through my dark, tangled hair. "It's _not_ your fault that I couldn't sleep."

"I–I know, but I made you stay up late to tape my back."

"Peter, you didn't make me do anything," I said, casting him a glance through the mirror as I twisted my hair up into a bun. Startled, he looked up from his search and met my gaze with his mouth only slightly agape. His surprised appearance brought a grin to my face. "How is it, anyways?"

At my inquiry, his lips tugged upward into a lopsided smile and he nodded before bringing his attention back to hunting. "Yeah it's good. Thanks."

"Mhmm." I hurriedly unzipped my makeup bag and extracted some cheap concealer. Flicking my gaze over to the boy beside me, I watched with a small smile as he extracted a comb from the drawer as if it were a long lost relic. _I have to tell him._ "Hey, I have to tell you something," I admitted quietly, causing him to pause in combing his hair. "But I know we're in a rush, so I'll tell you later. I just wanted to let you know." Peter watched me with worry etched in the creases of his drawn eyebrows.

"Are you okay?" He asked, cocoa eyes boring into my own.

 _Of course that's his first thought._ Holding his concerned gaze, a smile took form on my lips. "I'm fine," I murmured reassuringly. "I just wanted you to know." Biting the inside of his lip, he nodded and returned to combing through his bedhead.

After finishing applying concealer to the sudden outbreak of acne around my nose, I rushed out into the kitchen in search of a quick breakfast. It was hardly an easy job with the short time-frame, and I ended up stuffing an assortment of protein bars and fruit into my purse before basically sprinting out of the apartment with Peter.

•••

Thank God for Peter Parker. If he hadn't graced this planet I'd have never made it to school on time.

Luckily, that boy was an absolute genius and had detached his webshooters from his suit, using them to get us to Midtown instead of waiting to take public transit. We'd just barely made it to our respective classes on time, and with all the rushing we did, it was impossible to find the time to tell him what I'd been meaning to. Sitting in my Spanish class, I was beginning to think we'd _both_ have to worry about it all day before we could find the time and place to talk in private.

A dull ringtone sounded from my purse, causing me to stiffen and nervously watch Señor Manzano for a reaction. Thankfully, he seemed to not have heard it. When he turned to write a list of irregular verbs on the whiteboard, I reached one hand down to my purse on the floor and rummaged through it for the source of the disruption. My fingers closed around Peter's old phone and I quickly slipped it into my hoodie pocket, making sure to switch it to silent while I was at it. I'd completely forgotten I'd grabbed the device off Peter's desk before leaving the apartment this morning.

The phone vibrated twice in close succession before my next opportunity arose. When my teacher at last turned his attention away again, I looked down to my lap and turned it on. The screen lit up, showing a bland grey background and three messages from a number I immediately recognized as the one Spider-Man had written on my wrist not long ago.

'Are you ok? Do you wanna talk rn?'

'Oh right sorry, this is Peter btw :D.'

'Parker :D.'

I really couldn't help the smile that swiftly took over my face. _What a dork._

I put the device back in my pocket when Señor Manzano's gaze fell across the rows of students. But utilizing the brief moments during which his focus was elsewhere, I managed to compose a message and send it off to Pete. I could hardly believe I was secretly texting a boy during class.

It wasn't long before my phone buzzed with his reply: 'K you sure? Cuz I can talk, Mr. Hapgood doesn't really notice anything lol.'

Biting my lip, I cautiously glanced up at my teacher before typing out another message: 'Yeah I'm sure. School isn't really a good place to talk about it, sorry to make you wait Pete.'

His reply came quickly and with another big smiley face that somehow made me want to laugh.

'No problem Kase, see you in gym :)."

 **AN: Hey everyone. Sorry for the month long wait on this. Tbh I really don't have a good reason for it either. Life's been kinda busy lately, and I was stuck on the first section of this chapter for almost a solid three weeks. I'd try writing a few sentences, reread them, and delete them. It was one of those things you just couldn't get going no matter how hard you tried and it was so freaking frustrating and I shouldn't have given up on it so easily for so long. Sorry again, but I finally managed to write this hella short chapter and actually update on a Thursday, so that's at least good lol.**

 **Peter uses actual emojis in his texts, but Fanfiction doesn't show emojis so I had to use improvised ones.**

 **I had to go back to chapter 12 and add that Kasey has gym class with Peter bcuz I'm an idiot and forgot to mention that before lol.**

 **Anyways, thank you so much to my reviewers! You guys are great :D**


	24. Chapter 23

Hugging my old Midtown sweater closer around myself, I hurried toward the bleachers across the gym where groups of students convened to chat before class, though it seemed like half the class was missing. Peter and Ned sat in one of the rows midway up the stands, purposefully distancing themselves from the other kids gathered along the bottom.

Volleyball nets were set up around the gym, just as they had been since day one in this hellhole. Because, for some reason, Coach Wilson seemed to love torturing us. _I really can't wait for the day I don't have to take a stupid PE class._

I stepped around a group of robotics lab kids and made my way up toward the boys, my ears picked up their voices —mentioning something about a band—before they spotted me and stopped talking. _Huh. What's that all about?_

"Hey, guys." I slid onto the hard, plastic bench beside Ned. "What's–?"

"Did _you_ know Peter's planning on quitting marching band?" Ned blurted, causing Peter to open and close his mouth in a rush to defend himself but finding no words to do so.

I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion. "What?" I didn't even know he was _in_ marching band.

Peter finally seemed to find his voice. "N–No, it's just that I'm–I'm really slammed lately with, uh...uhm..."

"The Stark Internship," Ned supplied, his exasperated voice betraying just how much he disliked Peter's strange and unwavering dedication toward it.

"Yeah. That, a–and with homework, and the decathlon team, and robotics lab, and," his eyes fell on me, as if I held the words he was searching for. "...and life." His gaze swiveled back to Ned and he shrugged. "I dunno man, I told you, I just wanna cut back on some stuff so I'm not always so busy. And marching band's not really my thing anymore."

With a sigh, his friend nodded. "I know. Just don't quit the decathlon team on me. I don't wanna go to nationals and have to room with Flash." A loud whistle cut through the calm air, halting conversations and drawing every student's attention to it's source. But not before I caught Pete's chocolate eyes cloud with strange, yet unmistakable confliction.

I frowned but tore my gaze from him to watch Coach Wilson, all the while with my brain worrying. _Is he okay?_

"Alright kids!" Coach shouted, striding into the center of the gymnasium whilst spinning his lanyard around his finger. "Let's get this show on the road! I wanna be playing games in five minutes! So gather 'round!" With an exhausted sigh, I stood from my seat on the bench and began making my way down the steps, dreading the fourth consecutive day of tournaments.

Once we'd reached the gym floor, I slowed my pace to walk next to Peter. Ned didn't seem to notice or care, and kept a few steps ahead of us.

My shoulder brushed his arm as I moved closer to his side. "What's up?" I asked quietly, keeping my gaze locked on the students gathering in groups around the teacher. I could just about feel the rush of emotions flickering through the boy beside me.

"I... I–It's, uh–" Peter released a confused breath that bordered on exhaustion and reached a hand up to rub his face. "Can I tell you later?"

"Sure," I murmured with a smile. _I guess we both have secrets to tell._

We came up beside Ned, joining the other students and awaiting further instruction. Once the chatter had died down under his impatient stare, Coach Wilson began dividing us into teams of three. Due to over half the class being gone for an all-day arts field trip, it was decided we'd have a number of small teams. Peter was paired off with two other boys, and I prayed Coach would be merciful enough to not give me jerk teammates and let me stay with Ned, but I wasn't so lucky.

"Florez...Ionello...aaand...Thompson."

 _Well that's great._

Even Ned grimaced. "Good luck," he said. With a heavy sigh, I made my way over to the boys, who'd already claimed a court to play on and were arguing over who could spike the volleyball harder.

"Nah dude, no way. I work out, like, twice a week," Flash Thompson bragged, trying to spin the ball on his index finger like a basketball.

"Dude, I'm _literally_ taller than you," Jason argued, clearly annoyed.

 _This is gonna be the longest class of my life._

Flash shot him an incredulous glare. "So? Height doesn't mean anything. Besides, my vert is like two and a half feet. You can be the setter." Jason actually looked to _me_ for backup on this. And just like that—before I could even open my mouth to _say_ anything—Flash was glaring at me.

And my god did I ever wanna punch that kid's face into next year. But he'd probably find some reason to have me expelled, so I had to settle with something else. "Thompson, you don't have enough muscle to haul your ass ten inches off the ground," I snapped, successfully replacing his glare with a much more satisfying expression of shock and disbelief. Jason's jaw dropped, and he looked between me and Flash with wide, laughing eyes.

"You ladies finished yet?"

In unison, the three of us spun to find Michelle Jones watching the scene from the other end of the court wit her arms crossed in utter exasperation.

" _Actually_ –"

"Yes," I interjected, cutting off Flash before he could start anything else. Though I earned myself another glare that promised revenge, I managed to shut the kid up for a while.

"Great, then let's get this game going, I don't wanna listen to you girls any longer than I have to." Michelle stepped closer to the net and held her fist out beneath it in silent offering. Unfortunately, Flash decided he was best suited to be the one who decided the fate of the first ball, and stepped forward instantly.

Michelle—who's thoughts must've echoed my own—exhaled irritatedly through her nose and tossed strands of curly brown hair from her face with a swift jerk of her head. Oblivious, Flash held out his own fist. Some odd part of my mind rooted for Michelle, if only to see Flash publicly lose for once. But he threw paper and she threw rock.

"I won," Michelle announced, deftly stealing the volleyball from Flash's other hand.

"Wait, _what?"_ He attempted to grab the ball back. "I won! Paper covers rock!" He lifted his hands to provide a visual when Michelle rammed her fist into his 'paper.' I threw a hand up to cover my mouth as if it might halt my laughter.

"Rock crushes paper," she mused, ignoring Flash's pained cursing as he shook out his fingers.

"God _damn_ it, Jones!"

Michelle just shrugged and returned to her team with the volleyball. It was that moment I decided I _really_ liked her.

Jason snickered, causing Flash to spin and glare at him. Honestly, I half suspected a fight to break out.

"Come on, man! Let's just play!" One of the boys on Michelle's team called.

 _Finally, a decent idea._

" _I'm_ spiking," Flash growled, moving into position beside the net. Jason, thankfully, didn't protest this time.

 **AN: Agh that took forever. Sorry guys, I'm trying as hard as I can, but I can't seem to pull myself out of this weird limbo I'm in. It's like no matter what I do, no matter how long I sit in front of my computer and stare at the words, I just** ** _can't write_** **. Idk, maybe I need to force myself to write more, but I'm afraid I'll just be forcing out shitty chapters and nobody wants that lol. Anywho, at least I finally managed another half-decent chapter with some more diverse characters!**

 **I was kinda iffy writing so much Michelle and Flash, so I'd love to know what you guys thought of them :)**

 **Also, thank you all for sticking with my story despite my shitty updating! I'm so sorry and I'm trying my hardest to get over this weird writer's block. Hopefully it goes away soon!**

 **Please leave me your thoughts! I love hearing from you guys! :D**


	25. Chapter 24

"That was rough," I sighed, throwing in the combination to my locker dejectedly, not even bothering to conceal my stress and disappointment. I'd even studied for that quiz! Yet I _still_ felt unsure about it. Peter shifted his weight, leaning a shoulder against the wall of lockers and watching me, an earbud pressed in one ear while the other dangled from the collar of his sweater. I don't think he studied at all over the weekend and he'd been one of the first kids done while I had to stay after the bell to finish.

"Sorry, I don't know why it took me so long," I continued, shrugging my jacket on. "Thanks for waiting though." Considering how much he loved his daily crime-fighting, it was sweet of him to sacrifice some of that time for me.

"Yeah. No problem." I felt his concerned eyes on me as I gathered my homework into my arms. "How do you think you did?" He asked carefully, tugging his earbud out and reaching out to take my books while I was distracted with grabbing my bag. I managed a smile, his usual chivalrous gesture never failing to lift my mood.

"I dunno. I don't think I failed but I definitely didn't ace it." I swung my locker shut. "What about you?" _He probably got one-hundred-and-ten percent._

Peter nodded as we walked down the hallway toward the school's exit. "Y–Yeah, I think I uh, did pretty good." Briefly, he glanced at me. Confused, I peered at him with my eyebrows scrunched together.

"What?" I prompted.

Peter seemed to jump at my words. "What?" A laugh escaped my lips, making him grin in further puzzlement. "What?" He asked again, eyes dancing.

"Why'd you look at me like that?"

He exhaled a laugh and looked away to hide the rose creeping up his cheeks. His blushing almost made _me_ blush. _Jeez, the effect this boy has on me..._ Peter jogged forward, pushing open the door and holding it open for me.

I smiled, adjusting my glasses on my nose. "Thanks." He nodded, following me down the front steps of Midtown. "Hey, how's your shoulder?"

"Huh? Oh, y–yeah it's good. Great, actually... Hey, do–do you, uh, wanna do something? Tonight?"

"Yeah." I bit my lip against my growing smile, trying not to show my overwhelming excitement. "Like what?"

"Uh... I–I dunno," he admitted sheepishly. "What do you wanna do?"

I shrugged, heading down the stairs to the school field where some boys were fooling around with a football. "Well, I have math and that chem homework, so–" I stopped, seeing Peter's joyous expression falter and morph into one of horror.

"We have chemistry homework?" He breathed.

"Yeah, that sheet we got today on reactions. Why? Did you forget it?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Shit. Hang on." He turned, rushing back up the steps and returning to the school for his forgotten work. Laughing silently to myself, I leaned back against the brick wall to watch the group of guys pass a ball between themselves. Much to my surprise, I found myself able to recognize a few of them.

 _Yep. That's Brian...Jason...Seymour, I think...Charlie...and...is that Flash? Of course it is._ Officially uninterested, I shifted my attention to something, _anything_ , else, and prayed the school bully wouldn't take any notice of me. They yelled and laughed obnoxiously. _Maybe I should take cover._ The stairs leading back up to the highschool were inset in the brick retaining wall, which would provide significant protection from being seen. I quickly moved to sit on the steps, hidden from sight behind the tall brick. Not a moment later, a football slammed into the wall where I'd previously been standing, followed by uproarious laughter from the boys.

 _They threw a fucking ball at me!_ Shocked and enraged, I stepped out from my hiding spot to glare at them. The boys were gathered in a tight clump, laughing and jostling each other. _They threw a ball at me..._ My eyes stung with tears.

"Hey, Florez!" Flash called.

Gritting my teeth against my watery eyes, I lifted a hand into the sky, flipping him off and yelling, "dickhead!" That resulted in another bout of laughter.

"Kasey?" I spun, finding Peter standing at the bottom of the stairs and watching me in concern, my homework still in his arms. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to disappear from this moment and cling to him and just cry.

"Penis Parker!" Thompson yelled. "Throw it back!"

Pete looked between me and the boys, who waited expectantly to have their ball returned. "What happened?" He asked, stepping closer to me, his voice soft with worry. "Are you okay?" Nodding numbly, I reached down and picked up the football, trying to decide between hurling it in the opposite direction or nailing it at Flash Thompson's smirking face. It wasn't a very difficult decision, and before I knew it I was winding up and launching it into the air. I watched, hoping he wouldn't be able to catch it and it'd knock a tooth out or _something._ But it began spiraling downward before reaching it's mark. Wanting nothing more than to curl up in a corner and not exist, I turned toward the steps, intending to take the long way around the field. I could still hear those infuriating boys _lauging_ as I walked back up the steps and it was _killing me_. Furiously, I blinked back tears. _I just want to be home._

"Kasey!" Peter's footsteps sounded behind me. I stopped in my tracks but didn't turn around.

 _Don't cry, don't cry. Don't you dare._

"Hey," he ran up and stopped in front me, still holding my damn homework. "Hey, are you okay?" I pushed strands of hair from my face and nodded. But as soon as I looked up and into his warm eyes I knew I couldn't let myself lie to him again.

"No," I admitted, shaking my head slowly. Peter sighed, clenching his jaw and watching me with sad, sad eyes.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, shaking his head. "God, Kase, I'm sorry." He set my books down on a bench just to his right and stepped toward me with open arms. Without hesitation, I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around him, doing everything I could to contain my sobs. _Why would they throw it at me? Why? I didn't_ do _anything._ As if he could hear my thoughts, Peter pulled me closer.

"I'm so sorry Kasey," he murmured. "It's not your fault. The only reason they're like this is because you're around me. M–Maybe–"

"No." I stopped him before he could suggest I stop hanging around him and Ned. "You're my friend," I declared sternly. "And Flash can get a fist in the face if he thinks he can change that."

With my head pressed to his chest I could feel his pulse quicken and the vibrations when he laughed. "Well he already got a football in the face."

"I missed," I muttered drily.

"It rebounded into his face," Peter explained, chuckling at the recollection. "It was pretty funny."

I managed a smile. "Good."

"...Have you ever been to Forest Park?"

"No." I'd hardly been anywhere in Queens despite having lived there for the majority of my life thus far.

His heartbeat sped up. "You wanna go?" I could hear the smile in his voice. "They have the best trees to climb."

I grinned, finding both his child-like excitement and nervousness adorable. "Sure...thank you."

Peter's arms tightened around me. "No problem." After a last, comforting squeeze, he released me and watched my face with careful eyes. "Are you okay? Di–Did they throw a football at you?"

"Yeah," I nodded, looking up at him and shrugging sadly. "It didn't hit me, but yeah. I'll be fine."

He sighed through his nose, gazing toward the field on his right and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Kase," his eyes flicked back to me and I could see all the regret and all the sorrow clouding them. "I should've been there."

"Don't," I breathed. "Don't blame yourself. _Please_. Just...let's go home," I offered, retrieving my homework from the bench. "I have homework to finish before we go the park and climb some trees." Pete smiled, bringing one to my own face.

"You're gonna climb a tree?" He asked, almost in disbelief.

I was marginally offended. "You don't believe me?"

"No! N–No! I do! It–It's just that, I–Hey!" Peter stopped in his stuttering excuse when I hurried past him to continue around the school's field. He appeared beside me instantly, grabbing my homework from my hands without a word.

"Hey!" 

••• 

"How's your balance?"

I hopped onto the rail of the train-track, feeling as if I were in some sort of fantasy surrounded by full, green trees, chirping birds and blue sky. "Not bad." I glanced over at Peter, who strolled casually along the rail parallel to mine with his hands in his pant pockets. "Not as good as yours, obviously."

He laughed, glancing over at me with shining brown eyes. "So is this a good place?"

I nodded, looking down at my feet as I walked carefully along the track. "Yeah, I like it here. It's kinda hard to believe something like this is in Queens."

"Yeah, It's pretty cool. I used to come here a lot with May and Ben. But I meant f–for us to uh, talk."

I looked up suddenly, losing my balance just enough to have to step off the rail for a moment. "Oh," my cheeks heated in embarrassment and I hopped back onto the rail. "Right. I guess we both have something to say." I shot him a quick look. "You wanna go first?"

He shrugged, looking down at his feet. "Doesn't matter. Do you?"

"Well, I've been making you wait since this morning, so I'll go first." I took a deep breath. "You know last night when I said I wanted to be a physiotherapist?"

"Yeah." The wind rustled the leaves and tore hair from my unkempt bun.

"I lied. I never wanted to be one...I couldn't be one, I don't like people most of the time." Peter laughed and I couldn't help but grin for a moment before continuing. "Um, I actually learned that stuff from online...When Papá came home drunk he'd usually lash out at me. And I had to learn to cover it up and deal with it. So I stole the stuff that I needed and found online tutorials and stuff that taught me how to deal with bruises and cuts and everything." I shook my head and tucked loose strands of hair behind my ear. "I know it's a stupid thing to lie about, and I'm sorry. Trust me, it's been killing me since last night." I felt his eyes on me, so I looked up and met his gaze. He offered me a kind, lopsided smile.

"It's okay," he said. "I can understand that. I–I mean, not from personal experience. But I get it." He exhaled a large breath. "Okay. Uh...I think I'm gonna quit the decathlon team." My foot slipped off the rail in surprise but Peter caught my flailing hand before I could fall on my face. I looked across at him, my grin matching his own.

"Thanks," I said. "But why are you gonna quit the team? You already quit band."

He shrugged, causing our connected hands to lift with the movement. "I'm just really busy and the decathlon has meetings and stuff all the time, then they go on that trip to D.C. and what if something happens while we're there and Mr. Stark needs me?"

"Pete, it's a two day trip," I pointed out, swinging our clasped hands aimlessly. "And Ned's gonna be sad if you don't go." _I'm gonna be sad if you don't go, you idiot. I just decided I might go with you guys and now you're gonna ditch me and Ned?_

"I know," he sighed. "That's why I don't know what to do. I mean, I'll quit robotics lab tomorrow to free up more time, but I just really wanna be here if something happens," he gazed over at me. "What do you think I should do?"

I stared at him, half shocked and half overjoyed that he was asking for _my_ opinion on this. "Well, I think you should at least go on the decathlon trip cuz it's only two days and I've never been to D.C. so it would suck to see it for the first time without you. But if you really wanna stay here then you can do that too. I just don't think anything super important can happen in two days."

"Yeah. Okay." Peter's eyes fell on me again, another grin taking over his face. "D.C. is usually pretty boring, but maybe it'll be fun with you." I laughed at the cliché but still found myself flattered. He lifted our still-connected hands stretching the gap of the train-track between us. "You don't mind?"

Smiling shyly, I shook my head. "No." For good measure, I added, "and you're keeping me from falling, so that's nice." I swung my hand in eccentric circles, dragging his after mine while we walked along the track.

Suddenly, he whipped his head toward me with an excited, childish grin plastered on his face. "You wanna climb a tree? There's a huge on over there."

"Sure." He hopped off the rail and dragged me after him as he rushed off toward the greenery. He released my hand to jump up and grab the low-hanging branch of a monstrous deciduous tree. I didn't even have to try to reach the same branch to know my height prevented me.

"I'm too short for this!" I pointed out.

"No you're not," he reached hand down to me, but I hesitated to take it. "Come on, you're not gonna drag me off the tree," he insisted, wiggling his fingers. So I grabbed his hand and he hauled me up without a problem until we were nose-to-nose, balanced precariously on the same branch.

"You got it?" Peter breathed. It took me a moment to realize he was referring to my balance.

"Yeah. I'm good," I watched him climb up to the next branch. "How far up are we going?"

"All the way," he responded, waving me up.

"Are you serious?" I laughed, following him up without height issues now that the branches were closer together.

"Yep. I've climbed this one tons of times."

I grasped the next branch firmly before pulling myself up. "With someone else?"

He turned his head to shoot me a grin. "Nope."

My jaw dropped. "Well that's not promising!"

He laughed. "It'll be fine! Come on, Kase, you really think I'm gonna let you fall out of a tree?" When I didn't reply immediately, he took it as a victory over the brief argument. "See? The top is just up there." I craned my head back, finding the top to be quite far away.

"Oh, awesome."

"Come on," he urged, grabbing my hand to drag me up to his branch.

"I'm wearing the worst shoes for tree-climbing," I muttered, glancing down at my old, tattered sneakers I'd had since eighth grade.

"Me too." I didn't even have to look down at his shoes because I knew it didn't matter if he was _Spider-Man._ Instead, I punched his shoulder lightly.

"You know that doesn't matter," I hissed. Peter grinned and swung up into the next forked branch of the tree.

"Almost there," he said before climbing upwards even further. I followed after him with a bemused shake of my head. _This boy is an actual three year-old._ "Kasey!" He called.

"I'm coming!" I laughed, dragging myself upwards until I was right below him. Peter stood in another fork that looked much too small for two people.

"It's fine," he insisted, grabbing my hand and hoisting me up before I could protest.

Once I stood in the small space with him, I looked around at the dense green foliage around us. "Is this it?" I asked. Peter grinned devilishly and began crawling outward along a branch that hung over the railroad track we'd previously been walking on.

"Peter!"

"What?" He laughed, shuffling out further to make room for me.

"Are you serious!?" I demanded.

"Yeah," he lifted a hand out to me. "Come on. It's cool."

I bit the inside of my lip, crouching down onto the same branch before I could change my mind. "If I fall and die I'm gonna kill you," I muttered, grabbing his hand to steady myself as I made my way out toward him.

"Don't worry, I got ya." When I'd at last settled beside him, I was grinning uncontrollably from the thrill of being so high. "See? It's cool, right?" I nodded, looking down at the train-track that was so far below.

"How are we gonna get down?" I asked.

"Uh…Don't worry about that yet."

"Okay," I laughed, leaning into him and listening to the wind in the trees and the singing of the birds. And even though I was an absolute mess and I had so much homework to do, I was here—a world away from Queens with Peter Parker, with my best friend.

 **AN: HEY IT'S BEEN A WHILE! I'm really sorry about the wait! It's around that time of year when my teachers are like 'well better start teaching these kids something' so I'm getting a ton of schoolwork and I've had project after project and I'm so tired lately lol it's been rough. But hot damn would you look at this kick ass chapter I just wrote!? Woohoo! And I'm even updating on a Thursday! Go me!** **Man, that would've been a cute kiss scene too. Sorry guys, but I already have that planned out so no kiss yet!** **That was a little emotional too, so I balanced it out with some cuteness ;)**

 **So I want to address something to avoid confusion and save y'all some time: this story is not the typical cliché with a single intro chapter during which Spidey saves some girl and they instantly fall in love, then it follows with 15 chapters or so of an exact rendition of the movie with his girlfriend damsel and some steamy make-out sessions thrown in there. My stories are not like those, so if that's something you're looking for you're not gonna find that in my writing. Sorry! It's just not my style ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ But if you're looking for cute, realistic romance then you've found the right story! Hallelujah right!? I try to make my stories different from everyone else's (your welcome)! Which brings me to my next statement: realistic romance takes time, especially with a damaged character like Kasey. She's been through a lot and she just met Peter a few days ago, so they aren't gonna start sharing a bed and spontaneously making out purely because the other is attractive. That's not realistic! Kasey needs a friend and she's found that in Peter, so their romance is going to bloom from their friendship eventually. Again, I'm trying my hardest to make it real, and it's not real for Kasey and Peter to meet and have her immediately thrown into the conflict between Pete and Vulture _and_ have them fall in love at the same time (not to mention how hard that would be to write)! I'm getting to the movie plot, but there's always gotta be a calm before the storm, and plus I enjoy the little before-time I get to write Kasey and Peter normally before the movie takes over, ya know? So yeah. I'm sorry if you're looking for instant romance and instant movie plot because that's not what this story is! But this story _is_ different and it _is_ as realistic as I can make it. I put a lot of effort into my writing, to make sure it's different and unique and I'm sorry if you don't like it, but if you do that's awesome and I love you guys! I appreciate all the criticism I receive and I just wanted to make sure there was no more confusion regarding the road this story is going to take. So yeah :)**

 **Thank you guys for your continued support! I appreciate it so much and I love all of you! :D**

 **Please review! :)**


	26. Chapter 25

"Hey!" Ned greeted cheerfully, sitting down across from me with a tray of food from the cafeteria. "What're those?" He asked, referring to my most recent creation in Home Economics, sitting on a paper plate in front of me.

"Oh, they're sweet potato chips," I shrugged, pushing the plate toward him. "They're alright. Try one."

He grimaced. "I'm good." He glanced around the lunch room in search of something. "Where'd Peter go?"

I quickly stuffed a sweet potato chip into my mouth and shrugged to avoid answering the question, knowing full well that Peter had gone off to officially quit robotics lab but not wanting to be the one to tell his friend that.

"Oh. Well, while he's not here," Ned leaned forward across the table and I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. "Do you like him?" I choked on my chip in shock, but Ned didn't seem to notice. "I mean, not like _as a friend,_ but like, a crush, you know?"

My phone buzzed in my hoodie pocket, saving me from replying to Ned. I extracted the vibrating device, staring in confusion at the number displayed on the screen. _Who the hell would ever call me?_

Ned seemed as confused as I was. "Who is it?"

I shrugged and glanced up at him. "Should I answer it?"

"I wouldn't. It's probably just a telemarketer."

 _What's the worst that could happen?_ I tapped the screen, accepting the call and lifting it up to my ear.

"Hello?"

 _"Hello, may I speak with Kasey Florez, please?"_

My heart rate kicked up a notch. "Yes, that's me."

I glanced nervously at Ned, who just shrugged helplessly.

 _"Oh, ¡hola Kasey! ¿Cómo estás?"_

Instantly, I perked up, finally recognizing the voice on the other line. "Oh, mister Delmar, ¡hola! Estoy bien, gracias, ¿y tú?"

"The sandwich place guy?" Ned hissed.

Mr. Delmar laughed. _"Genial, gracias. I'm calling to say I'd like to hire you."_

My eyes widened and my mouth just about fell open. "Really? That's awesome! Thank you!"

"Hey," Peter sat down beside me, placing his lunch tray on the table. He glanced over, noticing I was on the phone and mouthed sorry.

 _"Your resume availability says you can work tonight. Is that still correct?"_

I ran through my homework in my head, making sure there was nothing major. "Yeah, I can come right after school."

 _"Excellent, I'll see you then?"_

"Yes, thank you." I hung up, placing my phone on the table with a huge grin.

"Why's the guy from the deli calling you?" Ned asked.

But Peter already knew why and was grinning hugely. "You got it?"

I nodded, smiling shyly when Ned started to get excited as well.

"You got a job!" He cried. "Can I come visit you? Do I get discounts for being your friend?"

 _Your friend._ Those two, simple words caused my heart to jump.

"Ned, their sandwiches are only five dollars," Peter said, seeming confused.

The Filipino boy sighed with exaggerated exasperation. "Not all of us have jobs, Peter."

I smiled to myself as I ate my lunch. Listening to the boys bicker during lunch was usually the highlight of my day, and today was no exception.

"Yeah, but...you don't even _want_ one," Peter pointed out.

"So?" Ned argued. "Hey, where were you, anyway?"

The topic shift in their conversation caused Peter to stiffen and avert his gaze from his friend to the tray of food before him. Ned glanced between us in search of an answer, but I looked away as well, dragging the paper plate closer to grab another sweet potato chip for myself.

Peter released a small, pent-up breath. "I, uh...was quitting robotics lab."

"What!?"

Peter winced slightly and braced himself for the remainder of Ned's onslaught.

"Why would you quit? You love robotics. Are you gonna quit the decathlon team too?"

"I–I dunno, I don't think so, Ned. I..." he sighed and glanced down at his tray for a moment. "I just...life is kinda busy, y'know?" He shrugged weakly. "I just wanna have some downtime."

The air between the three of us became tense with silence, something I wasn't used to around my new friends who were usually so joyful and carefree.

I cleared my throat, trying my best not to be so awkward about it. "When's the next decathlon meeting?"

"Today," Ned mumbled, stuffing fries in his mouth.

Peter looked up from his own lunch, confused. "After school," he said, "why?"

I gave a small shrug, biting my lip. "I don't have much homework, so I was thinking of joining. Is that alright?"

"Really?" Peter breathed.

Ned narrowed his eyes, not quite understanding. "But, don't you have a job now?"

"Mr. Delmar won't mind if I stay here a while longer." I glanced at Peter for confirmation. "Right?"

"Oh, uh, y–yeah, he won't mind. He knows I show up late some days, so yeah," he nodded. "I think it–it'll be fine."

"Cool."

The voice was new and came from the table beside ours, which was empty save for its lone occupant: Michelle Jones. She sat there everyday, reading some huge book while eating her lunch, but I couldn't help being surprised every time she—quite rarely—spoke up.

She sent me a strange, lopsided half-smile. "I'll save you a spot."

Michelle dropped her gaze to her book, as if she was finished with the conversation. But I was still thoroughly confused.

"For what?" I asked.

She looked up, tossing her bangs out her face with a sharp jerk of her head. "Trivia day. You're on my team, nerd." And with that, Michelle Jones swiftly gathered her things and left, despite our lunch break starting only fifteen minutes ago.

•••

"Alright everyone –hey! Flash, what have I told you about the paper airplanes?"

Flash Thompson only laughed and threw another one that found its mark on the back of Ned's head. The Filipino boy scowled and rubbed the back of his head with a frown. I felt Peter tense up beside me, restraining himself from snapping at the bully, who'd been tossing airplanes at us since we walked into the drama lab a few minutes ago.

I shifted my leg so our knees touched, and a moment later I felt Peter's shoulder brush against mine. I tried my best to hide my smile and focus on Mr. Harrington, waiting impatiently for Flash to quiet down.

"Are we done with the projectiles?" He asked, shooting the culprit a pointed glare before relaxing and leaning back in his seat. "Thank you…Now, we have a group of ten today now that Kasey has decided to join us for Trivia. Which means we can either do five teams of two or two teams of five. What's the vote?"

"Five v five!" Flash yelled, shooting his hand in the air. Almost immediately, everyone else had their hands stuck straight up as well.

Mr. Harrington nodded. "Alright, Liz, organize the teams." He stood from his seat and took his place behind a wooden podium.

Liz got to her feet and began directing kids to either side of the stage. When she got to me, Michelle stood, announced that 'I'm with her,' and motioned for me to follow her onto the stage and into our seats. Liz finished with the teams and took the last chair at our table, along with Flash and Charles Murphy. The other team consisted of Peter, Ned, Sally, Abraham and Cindy.

Mr. Harrington shuffled a large stack of what appeared to be flash cards in his hands. "Alright, everyone. You know the drill, let's treat this like a _real_ event. No speaking unless I call on you, no bells until after I'm finished and _no cheating._ " He cleared his throat, glanced down at his cards. "Let's begin."

 **AN: Surprise I'm not dead.**

 **You guys…idk what else to say except I'm sorry.**

 **You know when you have this incredible idea in your head that you want so bad to turn into a story that you start writing without a plan or thought? I'm _extremely_ guilty of doing that on multiple occasions. One such was this book. I was so excited to start writing and to share this story with everyone that I began uploading the first chapters without even having a clear plan of how it was going to progress. But I have a solid plan now, so don't worry lol. Anyways, idk if this happens to anyone else but usually I get bored of my stories after only a few months of diligently writing/planning them. It get's too boring and difficult to keep writing so I just stop and leave them to collect dust in my evergrowing archives of unfinished stories. And I don't want that to happen to this story, because I _really_ like it. I want to see myself finish this story. And I have readers so that hopefully means some people like my story too lol and I don't want to stop writing something that other people are enjoying.**

 **What I'm saying is I shared this story with intentions of finishing it for others to read and enjoy, and even though it's hard I'm going to keep writing and finish this story, even if it takes me a few years. But hopefully it doesn't come to that lol**

 **I'm really sorry this chapter took so long to write but I think I'll be able to get the next one out much faster than it took for this one. I apologize profusely and profoundly in advance because I have no idea how long it'll take for me to write more chapters. But I promise they will eventually be posted. I'm not gonna leave you guys hanging.**

 **tbh the last three reviews on this story by a Guest, GraceEllingson and Dream01 really pushed me to finally finish this chapter. F** **eedback or a smiley face or somethin always helps and lets me know ppl are still reading and still looking forward to the next chapter! :)**

 **If you read all of that thanks! :D xoxo**


	27. Chapter 26

"We're gonna start simple in molecular genetics," Mr. Harrington announced, selecting a card from his pile. "What two scientists discovered the double helix structure of DNA?"

 _What?_

Michelle lunged forward and slapped her bell as everyone else did, creating a strange symphony of dings.

 _Shit. How am I the only one who doesn't know this?_

Mr. Harrington nodded to someone at the opposing team's table. "Peter?"

"Uh, Francis Crick and James Watson."

"Correct. Next question..." He selected a different card. "What type of substance has a pH greater than seven?"

The room exploded with the sounds of the bells, including my own that I somehow managed to press without thinking.

"Murphy?"

All eyes landed on the dorky kid in the chair next to Flash, who looked incredibly annoyed.

"Acids!" Murphy's eyebrows furrowed slightly before he titled his head back and released a loud sigh upon realizing his mistake. "Dang it."

"Incorrect," Mr. Harrington declared, immediately summoning a second wave of dings. I almost fell out of my chair when his eyes fell on me, appearing just as surprised as I felt. I dinged my bell again without even knowing.

"Kasey?" He prompted. Everyone stared at me and the urge to crawl under the table and curl into a ball was almost overwhelming.

 _Base. It's a base. You know the answer, just say it._ "Base," I said quietly, fighting against every instinct in my body to shrink in my seat or remain silent or run away.

He smiled encouragingly at me. "Correct."

I glanced at the other table, finding Peter already watching me with a big grin plastered on his face that said _that was awesome_ despite my poor performance being far from awesome. Michelle nudged me with her arm, and—despite there being a rule against conversing with others—whispered "good job."

"Name two carcinogens that may cause mutations in the genetic sequence."

 _ding ding ding ding ding_

"Sally?"

A brunette on the other team spoke proudly. "Radiation and steroids."

"Correct. What does HIV stand for?"

This time, Liz was the first to sound her bell. "Human immunodeficiency virus."

"Correct again." Mr. Harrington set his cards down on the podium. "Alright, you all seem warmed up. Let's move onto something harder."

•••

"What procedure separates fragments of DNA in restriction fragment length polymorphism?"

 _What the hell...?_

Ever since we switched to harder questions I'd only known the answers for a few and only been fast enough to answer one. But Flash, Peter and Ned were killing it. They always seemed to know the answer to every question Mr. Harrington asked, it was just a matter of who could hit their bell the fastest. And this time, it was Flash.

"Electricphoresis," he announced, staring smugly at Peter.

"Incorrect."

 _"What?"_ Flash Thompson hissed angrily but kept his voice low enough not to be heard.

 _ding_

Mr. Harrington's gaze shifted from our table to the others'. "Peter?"

"Electrophoresis."

"Correct." Mr. Harrington wrapped an elastic around the stack of cards, placed them on the podium and retrieved a different stack. "Alright everyone, topic shift to fundamentals of art."

Michelle sighed happily and leaned back in her seat in a relaxed manner, smiling like she already knew the turnout of the game, like she may as well not even try.

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat quite dramatically. "What fresco technique involves the application of a mixture of pigment and water to wet plaster?"

A single _ding_ sounded.

"Michelle?"

"Buon fresco," she answered lazily.

"Correct. What is hatching?"

I slapped my bell before I knew what I was doing, shocking everyone including myself.

"Kasey?"

 _Why do I keep doing that?_ In a panic, my eyes darted to the other table across the stage. Peter took notice of my gaze and instantly shot me a reassuring smile. And somehow, that was all I needed.

"Um, hatching is a shading technique where lines are drawn beside each other and really close together." I bit my lip, nervous.

Mr. Harrington glanced up from reading the card, a smile on his lips. "Correct."

The trivia continued, with Michelle buzzing in with the answer for every single one. Though whenever I recognized one I'd learned from experience or from my own research, I raced her to the bell. Often I'd win because she never expected anyone else to know the answers, and only once was I incorrect. Every so often Liz or Peter would ding, but it was mostly Michelle. And Mr. Harrington was quite obviously not impressed with that.

"When approximately was photography developed?"

 _ding ding_

"Cindy?"

The small Asian girl sat straight as a board in her seat with her hands clasped together on the tabletop. "The early nineteen hundreds."

"Incorrect."

She deflated, slumping back in her chair with pursed lips. Michelle Jones dinged her bell. As did Peter, though with much less certainty than the curly haired brunette beside me.

"Michelle?" Mr. Harrington almost sounded as bored as she did.

"Mid-nineteenth century."

"Correct." He hesitated to read the next question, and instead regarded each of us with some level of disappointment. "It seems most of you need to focus more on your art trivia," he noted. "Let's see how everyone is with Econ." He switched his cards out for different ones in a much smaller stack. "Macroeconomics," he said dramatically, pausing long enough to give us a long once over that was probably intended to make us nervous. It didn't work. "Can anyone give me the definition?"

Bells went off in quick succession of each other.

"Abraham?"

"A branch of economics that studies the performance of national economies."

"Correct. What is the combination of many different factors into a single economic variable?"

I slapped my bell along with a few others, but Ned beat me to it.

"Aggregation."

"Correct."

I shot him a huge grin that he happily mirrored.

"In what decade was the was the conceptual basis for GDP measurement developed?"

 _ding ding ding ding_

"Murphy?"

"Nineteen-thirties!"

Mr. Harrington nodded. "Correct." He picked through the cards for a moment, leaning forward with his forearms rested on the podium and a single card grasped between his fingers. "This question will be the tiebreaker," he announced. I chewed on my lip nervously, fiddling with my hands on the tabletop and awaiting the question. I caught Peter's stare, making him glance away with sudden embarrassment. I laughed silently and returned my focus to the question, but not before noticing Flash Thompson's angry glare toward me. I opted to ignore him.

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat. "Which economist headed the commission that investigated how much the Consumer Price Index overstated inflation?"

 _Shit._ I began desperately running through the names of every important person I could recall. A bell sounded from our team's table before I could think of anyone past Obama.

"Flash?" Mr. Harrington actually sounded impressed that Flash Thompson, who was much more an expert in sciences and math, knew the answer to such a small detail concerning macroeconomics.

With an all-superior smirk, Flash crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair far enough that I expected the front legs to lift from the ground. "John Maynard Keynes." And his grandeur vanished within a nanosecond of speaking. "Wait–"

"That is incorrect," Mr. Harrington announced, no longer very impressed with his student.

I ran through names in my head, hoping to come across the answer. _Not Okun, he has a law named after him about unemployment and an output gap or something._

 _ding!_ This time, it was Sally on the opposing team.

"Arthur Melvin Okun."

"Incorrect." Mr. Harrington didn't appear to be very happy with our Econ knowledge.

 _Melvin? How does she know his– wait...Michael!_

I slapped my bell the moment the name popped into my head, silently thanking Sally Avril for mentioning Okun's middle name. But Flash must've had the same revelation as I did because his bell went off exactly when mine did.

Mr. Harrington glanced between us, almost as if he were conflicted. "Kasey?"

I could practically feel the rage pouring off of Flash. "Michael Boskin."

He smiled proudly at me, his eyes bright and knowing. "Correct."

My team burst into elated cheers and celebration.

"Nice one, nerd," Michelle mused, nudging me with her elbow.

I ducked my head, feeling my face flush from the sudden excess of attention. "Thanks."

Flash was the only team member not revelling in our victory. In fact, he was pissed. "Her answer doesn't count, I rang my bell first," he complained to Mr. Harrington.

 _Is he serious?_

"What's his deal?" Michelle mumbled. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who noticed Flash's unreasonable behaviour. The entire Decathlon team had paused to watch the exchange between him and our teacher, who appeared hopelessly confused and unable to provide a reply for his student. Liz was quick to address the situation.

"Flash...you're on the same team," she said, speaking slowly and clearly as if to doubly ensure he understood. He opened and closed his mouth dismally, but no words formed in his defence. So he resorted to accusations.

"But...she cheated," he tried desperately.

I narrowed my eyes at him in disbelief. _Excuse me?_

I opened my mouth to defend myself but stopped and crossed my arms angrily, not wanting to further the issue or start an argument. Michelle stared at him with equal incredulity but said nothing.

At last, Mr. Harrington collected himself. "Nobody cheated," he declared. "Kasey rang her bell faster and I called on her for her answer. She's done nothing wrong. But you're participating in a _team_ activity, Flash," he explained slowly, employing the same technique Liz just used. "Kasey is on your team, so you have no reason to be competing with her. And," he added scoldingly, "accusing one of your teammates of cheating is not very sportsmanlike."

Flash made an irritated noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, and laced his fingers behind his head as he leaned back, the picture of 'whatever.'

"Meeting adjourned," Mr. Harrington announced flatly, gathering his cards scattered across the podium. Chair legs scraped obnoxiously against the stage as everyone got to their feet and stretched their cramped limbs. With an internal sigh of resignation, I followed suit, grabbing my purse off the chair's back and slinging it across my chest. I tugged my hair out from beneath the strap so it fell freely down my back in loose, dark brown curls.

"Ready?"

I looked up and into Peter's eyes—warm and brown and searching. I nodded, pushing my glasses further up my nose, hoping to escape this room sooner than later. He must've sensed my urge to leave because in an instant I was following him and Ned off the stage and out the doors.

"That was awesome," Ned gushed, his short legs moving fast to keep up with Peter's longer strides. "You're _really_ good at trivia."

I didn't look at him, already uncomfortable enough with what Flash did to me back there. "Thanks."

"I bet you're excited to start working, huh?"

I shrugged. "Sort of."

Luckily, the deli was just across the street from Midtown, so I only had to deal with Ned and his excessive excitement for a little while longer.

"I wish I had a job," he continued wistfully. "But, like, someplace cool."

Peter's arm bumped against my own, a silent _I feel you_ that made me smile a bit and feel not so alone in my overwhelming life.

Ned said his goodbyes when we reached the deli. Now that I had a job and Peter had to go to his 'Stark Internship,' Ned had nobody to walk home with. I felt bad for the lonely boy, but relieved that I could get at last a break from his enthusiasm.

Peter, however, lingered outside the shop, shifting his weight anxiously on his feet. "Uh, j–just text me when you're, uh…off. Or, you can text me whenever, too. I'll be…around…in the area."

"Okay," I nodded and looked down at my feet. "Thanks."

"You know, you uh, did good today. Flash is just a jerk."

I breathed a laugh at that last part. "Yeah, I know." I lifted my gaze and smiled at him. "Thanks. You did pretty good too."

He laughed nervously. "Thanks." Peter was practically bouncing on his feet, eager to suit up and fight crime. And yet there he was, standing beside me.

"You don't have to stay here with me," I said. "You can go."

"You sure?"

"I'll be fine."

A grin spread across his face like a child on Christmas morning. "Okay." Already, he was beginning to walk away. "I'll see you later, Kase!"

I smiled after him, watching him disappear down an alley far down the street and, not long after, watching Spider-Man shoot into the air.

* * *

 **AN: What's crackalakin my dudes!? I _finally_ got this chapter out and only a little over a month after the last one! Yay! Talk about lack of progress lmao but tbh whatever, progress is progress and this is a fairly long chapter so I'm just happy to be giving you guys another well deserved chapter because you're all INCREDIBLE! Like idk what I did to deserve all this amazing support, but it's honestly unbelievable and I love you all so much for it! It totally makes my day and really gives me the motivation to keep writing, so please keep all the wonderful reviews coming!**

 **Quick update on meee because it's been forever since I've updated!: school is ass, but my workload isn't too heavy this semester (yay). There's a hella cute guy in my math class that I'm too shy to talk to, but I'm working on it lmao. I've been sick for two weeks and I want to kill myself. I'm finally getting my own room in like three months. I got my license! But I have to drive a ratchet ass car! I'm GRADUATING high school this year (an actual blessing)! And I got a bunch of new plants, they're really cute.**

 **So yeah, life is busy, especially with all these stories I'm trying to write at once lol idk why I keep starting new ones, I just get so excited. BUT I'm going to keep writing TUG and keep bringing you guys chapters as fast as I can! Because you're all wonderful and you all deserve more chapters!**

 **I love you all, please review! :)**


	28. Chapter 27

The now-familiar sound of the bells on the shop door rang through the deli in the middle of the sandwich-making lesson Mr. Delmar was giving me.

Daniel—busy cutting jalapeños—glanced over his shoulder at me. "You got front?"

"Uh..." I looked to Mr. Delmar quizzically. "Do I?"

He thought for a moment before nodding. "Let's test your cashier abilities." He glanced down at the half-made sandwich my hands still hovered over. "Leave that for now," he said.

 _Right._ I tore the thin, plastic gloves off my hands and rushed after him to the front till, a fake smile already spread across my face.

"Hi, welcome to–" I faltered when my eyes took in the person standing at the counter.

Peter grinned at me. "Hey."

"Hi." _Shoot, I already said that._ Figuring I should probably get all the practice I could, I cleared my throat to continue with my introduction. "Welcome to the Delmar Deli, what can I do for you today?"

Peter looped his thumbs around his backpack straps, making a show of contemplating the menu above the counter despite knowing exactly what he wanted. "Can I get a number five with pickles? ...And, uh," a smirk crawled up his face, "could you tell me when the cashier gets off for her break?"

I felt my cheeks flood with heat as I punched his order into the register.

Mr. Delmar watched the exchange over my shoulder, arms crossed over his chest. " _Niño_ , five minutes."

The price popped up on the screen. "Your total is five dollars."

He knew that, handing me the money already grasped in his hand. "You wanna eat outside?"

Suddenly, I was incredibly excited. I turned to Mr. Delmar. "Is that okay?"

He shrugged. "As long as it's not over fifteen minutes."

Smiling, I spun back to the register. "Would you like your receipt?"

"No thanks." He swung his bag off one shoulder to shove his wallet inside a pouch.

I nodded, looking up from the screen and into Peter's smiling eyes. "Your order will be ready in a few minutes."

He grinned and switched his attention to Mr. Delmar as I turned to construct his sandwich. "I can't believe you turned Kasey into a sandwich barista in three hours."

He laughed. "She is a hard worker. Easy to teach, quick to learn."

My entire face heated hearing the praise I was so unused to. _Thank God my back is turned._

"What are you up to today?"

I could just picture Peter shrugging.

"Y'know, just some work at Avengers Tower," Peter replied. "Mister Stark's keeping me pretty busy so I got a long break today. Didn't have time to grab anything after school so I thought I'd come by."

"Señorita Kasey told me about the Decathlon meeting," Mr. Delmar said. "You got beat, eh?"

I laughed quietly to myself, wrapping the finished sandwich in paper.

Peter laughed. "Yeah, she tell you she got the winning point?"

 _That little_ — "It was a fluke," I said dismissively, spinning around to hand Peter his sandwich. He rolled his eyes and took the offered bag from my hand. "Another girl's wrong answer is the only reason I figured it out," I explained to a still-impressed Mr. Delmar.

"I'll meet you outside," Peter said, his eyes telling me he'll be on the roof.

Smiling, Mr. Delmar raised a brow at me, his eyes filled with silent amusement. I bit my lip against a creeping smile and returned to making the sandwich I'd abandoned earlier while he began wiping down the counters. Mr. Delmar had already informed me that I was allowed free sandwiches during my shifts, though the number varied depending on how long I worked for.

I finished with my lunch—a number four with extra tomatoes—and rolled it up in paper to take with me. I hurried to clock out for my break, taking off my apron and hairnet and grabbing my bag on my way out. The sun was still shining over Queens when I made it outside, my lunch grasped in my hands. I made my way past the deli to the alley Peter always hid his backpack in and climbed the fire escape I knew resided there.

Peter's sandwich was untouched beside him on the roof while he looked down at the phone in his hands, which now sported a new screen, free of the typical spider-webbing cracks decorating its surface.

"Hey."

He looked over his shoulder at me, grinning. "H–Hey, how is it working there?" He asked as I settled down beside him.

I shrugged and unwrapped my sandwich. "It's good, Mister Delmar's really nice." I nodded my chin toward the phone in his grasp. "What're you doing? Texting Stark?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "Sorta," he mumbled, tucking his phone into his backpack. "Happy's like my point guy. He was Mister Stark's chauffeur, now he's asset manager. I send him a crime report every day, but he doesn't really text back." He shrugged and began unwrapping his sandwich.

"How is it today?"

"Boring," he admitted, laughing. "I helped this one kid, Austin, find his cat, then walked him home. He asked me to sign his forehead."

I laughed. "Did you?"

"Yeah, he said he wanted to show his friends at school tomorrow." Peter grinned, shaking his head fondly. "He's funny. What time do you get off work?"

"Uh, I think my training is another two hours, but I dunno if Mister Delmar wants me to stay for longer."

"Probably not," he said. "The deli isn't very busy after eight. Plus, it's a school night."

I laughed to myself. I swear that boy's bedtime was nine pm sharp. "When does your internship end tonight?"

He shrugged. "Early enough to walk home with you." And he gave me this heart-stopping smile that made me wonder how I could ever walk past this boy and overlook him—his extraordinaire. How could I have lived for so long in Queens without _this_? And how the hell could anyone bully someone like him, who was so good to everyone, even the people who didn't deserve it, and who—when he couldn't save someone—instead became their friend. How could I ever have risen from such a dark place in my life without him?

But I guess that's how it was with Peter—the simple things were suddenly made brighter. And if someone cared, if the sun was shining, or if you woke up with a smile, one less shadow fell. With Peter, the whole world was made a brighter place.

* * *

 **AN: Heyyo short chapter (sorry) but it's better than nothing! Despite its length, this chapter was a monstrosity to write lmao but now that it's out of the way I'm planning on entering _Homecoming_ 's plot soon! Which should hopefully make writing a little easier for me. fingers crossed lol**

 **Also, I am so incredibly grateful to see the support this story is still receiving despite my horrendous updating, it really lifts my spirits to see the reads and reviews TUG is still getting and I want to thank all of you for that! I've said this before, but every single review you guys leave me helps so much and I cannot thank you all enough! You're all amazing! This story is as much for you guys as it is for me!**

 **Thank you for sticking with me! I love you all and I promise to give you guys another chapter as soon as I can! :)**


	29. Chapter 28

'Hey we have that lab today right'

I glanced around the kitchen, double checking that my teacher was too busy making sure one of the groups wouldn't burn down the school before quickly replying to Peter's text.

'Aren't you supposed to be learning spanish'

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and went back to gathering ingredients for our Italian flatbread. My phone buzzed when I returned to my group's kitchen with everything, dumping it out onto the counter. The girls busied themselves with grabbing things and I took the opportunity to glance at my phone.

'Yeah but I'm trying to figure something out'

I rolled my eyes. Not that he even needed to focus during class, he was a freaking genius. 'Yeah we have a lab about Bohr I think'

'K thanks see you in gym'

I smiled and quickly returned my phone to my pocket.

"Kasey, can you start on dishes?"

I spun around, finding the sink already filling with used measuring cups and some unwashed dishes from the first block Home Ec class.

I shot Betty Brant a fake smile. "Yup." I adjusted my glasses and watched with a smirk as Julia measured one tablespoon of dried rosemary instead of one teaspoon—a mistake she also made with the thyme a few seconds later. At the same time, I could hear Betty and Rachel arguing over how to properly mince a clove of garlic. Neither of them was right, but I figured it would be better to see their faces when they tasted this focaccia later, so I kept my mouth shut and washed the dishes, unable to keep the smile off my face.

 _I'm literally the only person in this group who has a clue._

•••

Ned was upset when I showed up late for lunch without anything from Home Ec, but Peter was too busy staring at Liz Allan to care or even notice.

"You didn't make anything today?" He asked, trying his best to conceal his disappointment.

I shrugged, taking a seat at the table across from him. "My group put me on dishes so I let them fuck it up."

Ned's jaw dropped and he started laughing. "Seriously?"

"Did Liz get a new top?" Peter asked, sounding far away.

I rolled my eyes as Ned rejoined Peter in staring at the senior, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"No," he said. "We've seen that before. But never with that skirt."

I turned in my seat. Liz was busy stringing up a blue and pink homecoming banner, wearing a grey sweater and a short jean skirt. Betty Brant stood below her, helping to make sure it was hung up perfectly. I remembered the face she made when she tried the flatbread in Home Ec today and grinned, spinning back around.

"We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy, though," Peter mumbled.

 _You think so?_

"Too late."

In unison, the three of us jerked our heads toward Michelle, sitting two tables away reading.

"You guys are losers," she added, returning her attention to the open book in her hands.

Ned glanced between her and us in confusion. "Well then why do you sit with us?"

"Because I don't have any friends," she answered matter of factly. Ned opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

Peter glanced at Liz again, then finally seemed to notice me with a blush. He looked like he wanted to say something but was too embarrassed to manage it.

I raised my eyebrows teasingly. It was the first time I'd witnessed his crush on Liz with my own eyes and not through Ned. It almost made me want to laugh.

"I– why...? You didn't get anything from the cafeteria." Now, he looked worried.

"I'm not hungry."

"But you're always hungry," he protested.

I felt my cheeks heating up as Ned chuckled. _Well, he's not wrong_.

Peter pressed his lips together. "I'll be right back." He pushed his chair back and stood up.

 _What?_

"Peter, lunch is almost over." But my argument did nothing to stop him from heading off to the cafeteria. Containing a heavy sigh, I turned back to Ned, propping my arm up on the lunch table and resting my chin in my palm.

"I am _so_ confused," he mumbled, watching Peter walk away. "Peter's had a crush on Liz for, like, ever."

"Are you blind?" I asked. "He was literally just burning a hole through her like Superman. He totally still likes her."

Ned looked even more confused. "Are _you_ blind?" He retorted, shaking his head when I had no reply. "I thought girls were supposed to be the observant ones."

"Me too," I muttered, still not comprehending a single thing the kid was trying to say.

I shoved my hand into my purse, blindly searching for my phone until I felt the cool metal and grabbed it. _I need a case for this thing_ , I thought ruefully, turning it on and checking absently for emails. Aside from a few basic apps Peter had added, there was really nothing on my phone. And nobody except him ever texted me, so all I could do was check my school email. Usually, they sent out reminders for stuff like upcoming school football games. At this point in the year, my inbox was filled with stuff about Homecoming. I deleted them without opening any. I'd never gone to those stupid dances before and this year would be no different.

I turned my phone off and glanced up at Ned who looked equally as bored, flicking his empty milk carton.

"Oh," he perked up, remembering something, "did Peter tell you I'm coming over tonight?"

I frowned thoughtfully. "No."

"Oh, well yeah. I got this sweet new LEGO set yesterday, it's three thousand eight hundred and _three_ pieces," he explained excitedly. "We're gonna build the Death Star."

I nodded, trying to mirror his excitement as best I could. "Nice. We watched the first one on Friday so I actually know what you're talking about."

Peter appeared, reclaiming his spot beside Ned. "We gotta watch Episode Five this weekend," he said, sliding a muffin across the table for me.

"That doesn't make any sense," I pointed out, taking the muffin with a grateful smile.

"Have you never seen Star Wars either?" Ned asked.

I shook my head, peeling back the muffin wrapper.

"Jeez, I thought Peter lived under a rock." He shook his head. "Star Wars is divided into three trilogies. The original trilogy came out first, it has Episodes four to six. Then there's the prequels, and you're not allowed to watch them until after because it's basically like cheating. And then there's the sequel trilogy, but so far only Episode Seven is out and it wasn't even very good."

"I still think it wasn't that bad," Peter argued. It sounded like they'd had this discussion before.

"Dude, the characters are so _plain_. It's like they're just throwing those people together without actually thinking about it. Plus, the whole idea of the BB astromech model is completely impractical."

"No way man, BB models are way more versatile than R-series."

I ate my muffin and listened to their arguing for the remainder of lunch, only understanding about half of whatever they were talking about but finding it amusing nonetheless. I wasn't sure how I managed to befriend those nerds, but it was definitely one of the most fortunate things to happen to me all damn year.

The bell rang, signalling the end of the break and of the boys' conversation regarding the new trilogy's villain. Peter and I didn't waste any time, making sure we made it into chemistry before the second bell. Ms. Sunden had made it clear at the beginning of the year that she wanted everyone early on lab days.

We grabbed the ugly plastic goggles and aprons from the front of the classroom before heading to our station where all the materials were waiting. Peter immediately pulled out his notes when we sat down, flipping through the pages.

"I'm gonna be blind this whole period," I said, tugging the glasses off my face and fishing through my bag for the case to put them in.

Peter laughed as he quickly scribbled something down. "I don't miss wearing glasses."

I rolled my eyes. "What are you working on?"

"New formula," he mumbled, turning the book toward me so I could see the spare lab sheet covered in structural formulas of molecules I couldn't recognize and an entire lab procedure. It was labelled as Web Fluid Version 3.01.

"You remember that formula I told you about the night you taped my back?"

I smiled at the recollection. "Yeah."

"I fixed it," he whispered, excitement gleaming in his eyes. "I think. I'm pretty sure."

"You're gonna make it now?" I hissed, glancing around the class as kids continued to pour in. "In class?"

He shrugged. "I do it all the time."

I scanned the sheet again, noticing how he'd completely misspelt toluene first as tuoline, then as tuolene, using an 'e' to cover the 'i' but not realizing it was still incorrect.

"Peter, you spelled toluene wrong."

"What?" He turned the page toward him to look at it. "Oh...shit."

•••

"Hey, Kasey."

I glanced up at Flash, watching in annoyance as he pulled up a chair, spinning it around so he sat on it backwards and rested his forearms on the backrest.

I returned my attention to my math homework. "How's your face?"

He laughed humourlessly. "You have a good arm, for a girl."

 _You should see my right hook._ I clenched my jaw and tried to focus on the math problem in front of me, dimly aware of Liz quizzing Ned and some other kids at the stage.

"You know, Florez, the football team could use some cheerleaders this year," he continued, undeterred by my silence. He made a point to check me out. "You wouldn't look half bad in a mini skirt."

"Maybe you should try throwing another football at me," I offered sarcastically.

"Aw, come on, Florez. I was just trying to get your attention."

I ignored him and kept working on my homework, wondering how much longer this decathlon meeting would go on for before I could escape him.

"What are you doing Friday night?"

When I didn't reply, he kept talking as if I had.

"Liz is having a party if you wanna come. I'm being the DJ so I'm allowed to invite whoever I want," he said smugly.

"I don't go to parties," I replied briskly.

"Party pooper," he mused. "Why not?"

 _Because I never get invited_. "Because I have better things to do."

He laughed. "What? Like watching Star Trek with Penis Parker?"

I could've roundhouse kicked him into the next century right then. And I just about did, but that was exactly what he wanted from me. Like every little kid, he _wanted_ to see me get mad at him. So I nodded and said "yup," refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me absolutely lose my shit on him.

"Alright," he said, placing his hands on the table and standing up. "Suit yourself, you're missing out."

I shook my head to myself. _I bet_.

Mr. Harrington called the meeting soon after. I gathered my homework and followed Ned and Peter outside the school. Like the past two nights, I was working again and Peter had his 'internship,' so Ned bid us goodbye once we made it off school grounds and turned to head home.

Peter and I hurried across the road toward the deli.

"I work a little later tonight so don't wait up for me," I said, thinking of how he's waited every night for me to get off work the past two days so we could walk together.

He shrugged. "May's making meatloaf tonight so I won't be in a rush. Unless...you don't want–?"

"Pete, you can't listen to what he says about you," I said, realizing he probably heard everything Flash said to me at the decathlon meeting. He was sitting a few tables away, reading over the USAD study guide and occasionally stealing glances at Liz, but his senses would've let him listen in on our conversation. I shook my head, sighing. "I don't know what Star Trek is, but I would watch it with you every night over going to a party."

A huge grin took over Peter Parker's face. "Really?"

"Really."

* * *

 **AN: Hellooo I finally finished this chapter! It took way longer than I'd hoped but whatever! I tried making it long because you guys have been so deprived lately lol but I feel like it's kinda broken up from all the breaks. And I'm worried I've lost my connection with the characters, especially Kasey. If you guys find that her or anyone else seems out of character in this chapter please don't be afraid to leave a review letting me know! I appreciate all the feedback I can get!**

 **Anyways, ENDGAME FUCKING DESTROYED ME (no spoilers but y'all gotta see it if you haven't yet) and the new Far From Home trailer is getting me so pumped I can't stop watching it! I really gotta start working on this fic more lmao we're officially into the movie plot tho so it should start getting a bit easier for me to write chapters!**

 **So it finally stopped snowing like three days ago where I live (climate change is 100% real, fight me) and honestly hallelujah because I only have two weeks to get tan before I have my graduation ceremony and it's still not getting above 12º. Also, I feel like an eighty-year-old woman I have so many physical issues rn for real I'm bout to fall apart lmao**

 **Thank you guys so so much for all the super sweet reviews! You are seriously all so incredible! I love reading them, they make me smile! :)**


	30. Chapter 29

"Murph!"

The cat looked down me from the top of the candy rack, balanced serenely on the thin metal bars.

"Can't you stay on the ground?" I muttered, standing on my tiptoes and reaching up to grab him. Murph meowed and let me lift him off the top of the rack.

I was helping Mr. Delmar begin to close the deli for the night, mopping the floor and organizing the shelves when I spotted the cat so high up, probably shedding fur all over the candy rack. I glanced around, wondering how the hell he even got up there.

"How'd you get up there?" I murmured, looking down at the cat and petting him.

Over the past few days, I'd come to enjoy Murph's company more than I expected. And to my surprise, he didn't seem to mind my constant cuddling.

He purred and leaned into my touch when I began scratching behind his ears.

I liked this part of my shift; when the deli was cleaned and organized and I had time to track down Murph before Mr. Delmar told me I could leave early. When the chaos of rush hour came to an end, it was calm. Peter was right—hardly anyone came in in the evening.

I smiled, looking down at the cat in my arms. _Damn, I got lucky with this job._

Murph's ears moved suddenly, swivelling toward the window, he turned his head to follow the noise and meowed, shifting in my grasp as if he wanted down.

"What's wrong?" I murmured, turning to see what was getting his attention.

 _What the hell?_

Peter— _Spider-Man_ —was fighting four guys in the bank across the street. Well, more like getting thrown around by some sort of...gun. Murph hopped out of my arms but I hardly noticed. My heart sped up watching him get slammed into the roof.

 _Come on, Pete._

"What...?"

I jumped, hearing Mr. Delmar behind me. He was watching the scene playing out outside as well, confusion and worry mixing in his eyes.

"I'll call the police," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

I returned to watching the fight, trying not to let show how nervous I was. But Peter looked like he had it under control now, using his webs to flip a desk over on top of his assailants. _Why am I so nervous? It's just a bank robbery, and he's_ Spider-Man.

Dimly, I could hear Mr. Delmar talking to the 911 dispatcher, reporting the robbery while Spider-Man flipped effortlessly around the bank. Dollar bills floated through the air as he fired webs at the masked robbers. I could just about hear all the smart little quips he was probably making while he kicked their asses.

"Alright," Mr. Delmar announced. "The police are on their way. I hope this Spider-Man can keep them busy for long enough."

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from the fight. I watched in horror as one of the robbers picked up a huge gun and pointed it at Peter, and before I knew it a bright, purple stream of light was exploding through the bank. Without a thought, I dove to the ground, rolling away from the window and shouting at Mr. Delmar to get down just as the deli windows exploded inward. Light flashed behind my closed eyelids and my ears were ringing. When I opened my eyes, the deli looked as if it had exploded. Everything had flown off their shelves and there was glass everywhere and the whole place was on fire.

 _Fire._

"Kasey!"

 _Peter._

"Hey, Mister Delmar! Anyone in here!? Hello!?"

Finally, my memory kicked in and I scrambled to my feet. _Peter._

I just about yelled his name but then he was in front of me, grabbing my shoulders intensely and bringing me close, his shoulders rising and falling with quick breaths.

"Are you okay? Did you get hit?" He looked me over carefully. His voice sounded far away for a moment before the ringing in my ears subsided.

"I'm fine," I insisted, blinking away the afterimage of the bright flash. "Go help Mister Delmar, I'll find Murph."

Spider-Man didn't argue. "Anyone here!?" He called, leaping over the counter in a desperate search. I followed Murph's fearful meows into a corner, where he laid in a scared little ball, ears flat and eyes wide. I quickly grabbed him, desperate to be away from the smoke that burned my throat and made my eyes water.

Through the hazy, spark-ridden air, Peter glanced back at me with wide eyepieces as he helped a coughing Mr. Delmar out of the burning deli. I hurried after him, the cat clutched in my arms, eyes shut tightly against the harsh smoke.

Peter sat him down on a moped parked next to a traffic light post. He was wheezing something between bouts of coughing.

"Kasey's fine," Peter said to him, glancing across the street at the bank. I didn't have to see his face to know he was disappointed; the quartet of men had vanished.

Sirens began wailing in the distance as a lampost across the street fell to the pavement, cut in half by the purple stream of light.

Mr. Delmar called my name again and I quickly hurried over to him, placing Murph carefully in his lap. "I'm okay," I said. "The police are on their way. I–I have to go find Peter," I lied. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

He nodded, still seeming dazed. I hesitated before rushing off after Peter. I felt bad leaving him there, but I needed to talk to Peter now.

"Who were those guys?" I hissed. Peter shook his head and took out his phone.

"I have no idea," he said. "That tech..." He trailed off, shaking his head again as if something was horribly wrong. "I gotta call Happy. You gotta get off the streets, I'll meet you at home."

I nodded and he shot into the air. _So much for talking to him._

•••

I leaned against the brick wall of the apartment building, watching the streets anxiously for that mop of curly brown hair to pop up. I hadn't been waiting that long and there was no way something could've happened to him in such a short time span, but I just couldn't stop feeling so nervous about everything.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I answered it immediately, feeling the tightness in my chest loosen upon seeing his Caller ID.

 _"I need you to distract May for a few minutes,"_ Peter said, completely forgoing formalities. _"I lost my backpack again, I gotta go in through the window."_

I grimaced. "Okay, I'll do my best."

"Thanks." With that, he hung up.

 _At least,_ I noted optimistically, _he sounded a little less stressed._

I tried not to worry about him as I quickly entered the building and hopped into the elevator. Right now, I had to focus on making sure his secret stayed a secret. _How the hell am I supposed to do that? I've never distracted anyone like that._

Trying not to dwell on my total lack of experience in this particular department, I walked off the elevator after it reached my level. Every step I took closer to the apartment door I could feel my heart rate increase. _Just talk to her for a few minutes. That's doable. Right?_

I pulled out my key, unlocking the door and walking inside. The smell of cooking meat hit me in the face like a truck. I forgot Peter mentioned she was making meatloaf tonight.

"Hi, May," I greeted, locking the door behind me.

"Oh, perfect!" She cried excitedly. "You can help me with this."

"With what?" I turned the corner into the kitchen, finding Peter's aunt washing dishes in the sink. She half-turned around with a broad grin spread across her face.

"I'm trying out this new meatloaf recipe," May said. "But I'm not the best at telling when it's done." She shrugged and returned to washing dishes. "The recipe said fifty-five minutes but it didn't look cooked so I put it in for fifteen more."

 _Fifteen!?_ That did not sound good. I spotted the recipe on the counter next to the stove, covered in grease spots and dark flecks that were probably dried Worcestershire sauce.

"Oh," May laughed, "I almost forgot; Ned's here."

I felt my heart drop. _How did I forget!?_

"I told him he could wait for you guys in your room." She paused for a moment. "Where's Peter?"

 _Shit._ "Uh..."

A crash came from the direction of Peter's room, sounding like something shattered.

"What was that?" May shouted.

"Nothing!" Peter replied.

I panicked and quickly opened the oven, allowing the steam and smoke from the half-burnt meatloaf to quickly fill the kitchen in the hopes of distracting her. But she only laughed and made a comment about her horrendous cooking, picking up a dishcloth and waving it through the air, trying to thin the smoke as she walked towards Peter's room.

I closed and turned off the oven before rushing after her, racking my mind for a believable excuse. But she'd already opened the door to his room, revealing a mostly naked Peter and a disoriented Ned Leeds, standing in front of a pile of LEGO on the floor.

"That turkey meatloaf recipe is a disaster," May admitted, laughing and pulling her long hair out of its updo. "Let's go to dinner. Thai? Ned, you want Thai?" She glanced over at me. "Kasey?"

I shrugged, still at a loss for words. All I could think about was that Ned _totally_ knew.

An excited smile crawled up his face and he started to say yes before Peter cut him off.

"No," he declared, looking over at his friend, "he's got a thing." Peter was smiling but Ned looked a little confused for a moment.

"A thing...to do after..." He smiled, not very convincingly. I just about facepalmed. This was a disaster.

Somehow, though finding it a bit strange, May believed their act. "Okay," she said, watching the two boys. She reached for the door handle, then gestured to Peter. "Maybe put some clothes on," she suggested.

Peter nodded briskly and snatched a sweater off the chair at his desk. May closed the door to his room, shaking her head with a sigh.

"Boys," she said, shrugging. "Can't understand 'em."

"Nope," I agreed breathlessly, glancing at the closed bedroom door before following her back into the kitchen.

* * *

 **AN: Surprise it's only been A WEEK**

 **I can assure you y'all aren't as shocked as I am lmao no promises for the next chapter coming this quickly tho, I can only do so much haha**

 **Anyways, I can't believe I gave Kasey a job only for her to have it for three days lol whoops. At least it meant she got to see the ATM robbery! I'm trying my best to place her in realistic situations that allow her to be involved in all the action. Hopefully, it'll make this story a little more interesting. So let me know what you guys thought about the robbery from her perspective!**

 **I think I need to invest in a space heater because my room is so cold it's starting to kill my plants that I work so hard to keep alive. Why do I live in Canada? Also, my grad ceremony is like one week away and I'm calling it now that I will 100% eat shit trying to walk onstage in heels loll I'll let y'all know how it goes. Anyways, I have to study for two unit exams tomorrow which I've been wholly procrastinating all night.**

 **I just want to thank everyone for all the super awesome reviews I've been getting! You guys are incredible, even through all my terrible updating you've stuck with me and I couldn't be more grateful! I seriously love you guys! :D**

* * *

 **EDIT: SHIT you guys I keep forgetting to mention I found an OFFICIAL SONG for TUG! AND IM SO IN LOVE WITH IT! It is PERFECT! Look it up!**

 **vvvv**

 **"Alive" by Dabin ft. RUNN**


	31. Chapter 30

May swapped the dishtowel she held for the oven mitts on the counter. "Alright," she said, slipping them on. "Let's see the damage."

The oven released a cloud of steam and smoke into the air when it opened. May reached in, taking out the pan of severely overcooked turkey meatloaf with a grimace.

"I'm not sure why I decided to make meatloaf when I still can't make pancakes," she mused.

I closed the oven door. "Anything involving food that can give you salmonella is hard," I said. "I can't tell when meat is cooked, so I'd probably end up overcooking it too."

She laughed and set the pan on the stovetop to cool. "Thanks, Kasey. You can go get ready, I'm sure Peter has some clothes on by now. We'll leave in, say, ten minutes. Sound good?"

I nodded. "Sure."

She smiled and I turned to leave, trying my best not to seem too relieved. I knocked on Peter's door, hopping anxiously on my feet.

The door swung open. Ned was still standing in the same spot, smiling like an idiot while Peter had only managed to put a sweater on. I hurried in so he could close the door behind me.

"Sorry," I murmured quietly. "I did my best."

Peter shook his head. "Don't worry about it." He gestured to Ned and ran his hands through his hair, mumbling, "he knows."

"Wait, _she_ knows?" Ned pointed a finger at me. "Have you met Tony Stark, too?"

I shook my head and looked back to Peter. "What did Happy say?"

He crossed his arms with a sigh, leaning back against the edge of his desk. "Nothing helpful," he muttered. "Did you know they're moving upstate?"

"No." _I live under a rock._

"Don't you work there _every day_?" Ned demanded, confused once more.

Peter rubbed his face tiredly. "No, Ned, the Internship is a coverup."

Realization dawned on his friend's face. "Ohhhh," he nodded in understanding. "That makes more sense. But..." his eyebrows drew together in thought, "how does Kasey know about...?"

My heart stopped for a moment and I wasn't sure how to reply. We never considered what we'd tell him if he ever discovered Spider-Man's identity. Luckily, Peter was a hero both in and out of costume, and he didn't miss a beat, hurrying to his friend's side to guide him out.

"Look," he said, "I'll tell you everything tomorrow, but right now you gotta leave."

Ned didn't protest, he was far too excited to register being kicked out. "Can I try the suit on?"

"No." Peter opened the door, urging his friend out. "I'll see you at school." With that, Ned was sent out and Peter closed the door behind him. Leaning back against it, he released a long, tired sigh and pressed the palms of his hands into his face.

For a moment, all I could do was watch him hopelessly, drowning in his stress and frustration and exhaustion.

I bit my lip "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

Peter dragged his hands off his face tiredly, nodding and looking down at his feet. "Yeah," he said at last. "A–Are you?"

He already asked me that, but I smiled and nodded anyway. "Sorry I distracted you from those guys."

He looked up, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Don't apologize. Spider-Man saves people," he said. "You're more important than catching a few criminals."

I tried to ignore his scrutinizing gaze when I didn't immediately have a reply. "Do you think you can find them?"

But Peter wasn't listening. Instead, he was watching me with narrowed, troubled eyes. "You know you're more important, right?"

I couldn't respond to that. I knew he would come to our rescue when the deli caught fire, even if it meant letting the robbers get away. I didn't doubt that. And I was grateful he helped Mr. Delmar and Murph from the flames. I just didn't think he should've helped a criminal in favour of putting three behind bars. And based on his saddened expression, he knew exactly what I was thinking, reading me as if I were a somber book.

"Kasey..." Peter clenched his jaw together, sighing through his nose. He stepped forward, opening his arms and pulling me into a tight hug. Unable to object, I wrapped my arms around his torso and pressed my face into his chest.

I felt the soft vibrations when he spoke. "Why don't you believe me when I say you're more than just a criminal?" He murmured, his voice rough with distress in my ear.

 _Because for my whole life it's been true._

My eyes stung and I pressed myself closer to him, wishing I could drown in his embrace. "Because I'm stubborn," I muttered wryly.

"You said it, not me."

I rolled my eyes, an easy smile working its way along my lips. "May said we'll leave in ten minutes."

"Mmkay," he mumbled, not seeming to care too much.

"...So you should probably put some pants on," I added pointedly.

Peter stiffened instantly when he realized he was still only partially clothed.

"I–I...forgot about those..."

•••

"How's your first Thai experience, Kasey?"

I looked up from my soup, smiling at May. "Pretty good. I wish I tried it sooner."

She laughed. "Well, I'm glad you like it. It's usually my go-to when dinner doesn't go as planned. We come here a lot, huh?" She turned her attention to Peter, poking absently at his food with a chopstick, the sleeves of his sweater pushed back to his elbows. He looked tired.

He nodded, only seeming to half-hear his aunt.

"What's the matter?" She asked, her eyes moving between him and his mostly-untouched dinner. "I thought you loved larb. Is it too larb-y? Not larb-y enough?"

Briefly, he glanced up at her.

May leaned forward, trying again to get his attention. "How many times do I have to say ' _larb_ ' before you talk to me?" She smiled when he finally looked up at her. "You know I larb you."

He sighed, shaking his head lightly. "I'm just stressed; the internship, and I'm tired," he looked down, fiddling with the chopstick. "A lot of work," he added quietly.

I leaned back in my chair, suddenly feeling slightly intrusive.

"The Stark Internship," May lifted her own chopsticks, a wonton grasped between them. "I have to tell you: _not_ a fan of that Tony Stark."

Peter looked up at the mention of his idol.

"You're distracted all the time, he's got you in your head."

Ironically, I noticed his gaze shift from his aunt to the tv on the wall behind her, listening to the news while she kept talking.

"What does he have you doing? You need to use your instincts, remember that."

The tv displayed a video of Mr. Delmar's destroyed deli while the reporter described the incident. Either May must've noticed Peter's divided attention or the words 'ATM robbery' caused her to spin around in her chair, with a confused "what?" just as the screen switched to an unfortunate picture of Spider-Man peeling toilet paper off his feet in the doorway of a porta-potty.

Stifling my laugh, I stole a glance at Peter to see his reaction. He looked far from impressed.

As the news reporter continued with his explanation of the night's events, footage captured from a security camera within Queens Bank depicted Spider-Man gracefully fighting off the criminals.

May turned back around, looking even less impressed than Peter. "If you spot something like that happening," she hooked a thumb over her shoulder, "you turn and you run the other way," she gave the two of us a pointed look. "Both of you."

Peter agreed immediately, as if he'd never dream of doing anything else. "Yeah, _yeahyeahyeahyeah_ , of course."

I nodded vigorously, playing along.

"Six blocks away from us," she added incredulously, waving a disbelieving hand at the tv before returning to her dinner.

"I, uh, need a new backpack," Peter announced suddenly, giving his aunt a sheepish smile that made me want to laugh.

May made a face, tapping her ear as if she hadn't heard him properly, or at least hoped she hadn't. "What?"

I bit my lip and looked down at my bowl of soup, stirring it aimlessly. If I looked at him any longer I might explode with laughter.

"I–I need a new backpack," he repeated.

"That's _five._ "

 _He's lost five backpacks?_

I looked up as one of the restaurant's servers approached us, holding a bowl. Despite us not ordering anything else, he placed it on a small space on our table, smiling at May. "sticky rice pudding."

She looked up at him, smiling politely despite her confusion. "We didn't order that."

"It's on the house," he said. And I just managed to catch the discreet wink he sent her.

 _Oh my god_.

"Oh," her smile widened. "Thanks."

When he left, I couldn't help but look at Peter, who stared after him with the same expression of disbelief. He met my gaze with wide eyes, as if saying _did you see that?_

"That was nice of him." May set her chopsticks down and grabbed the large bowl of rice pudding.

"I think he larbs _you_ ," Peter commented, pointing his chopstick at his aunt, who pressed a hand to her shoulder in shock. Her gaze shot to me for confirmation.

I nodded. "It was the wink."

* * *

 **AN: The only reason this took so long is because I had to graduate and write four exams in the middle of it lol plus I couldn't find a way to make the restaurant scene flow, and I still don't really like how it turned out. I might go back and try to fix it later, idk**

 **Please please let me know if any of my characters seem out of character because it's been so long since I've worked on this story I'm worried I'm losing touch with them, I'm really doing my best to make sure that doesn't happen though. I'm hoping once I get further into the plot it'll be easier to write.**

 **I haven't seen ffh yet, hopefully I'll be able to see it sometime this week! Until then, no spoilers please!**

 **Thank you so much to everyone whose left reviews lately! You're all so sweet and it honestly helps me so much to keep writing! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! :D**


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